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 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
A CRUISE ON THE 
 
 U. S. PRACTICE SHIP 
 
 S. P. CHASE 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2011 with funding from 
 The Library of Congress 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cruiseonuspractiOOwyma 
 
A CRUISE ON THE 
 
 U. S. PRACTICE SHIP 
 
 S. P. CHASE 
 
 BEING THE F1HST IMPRESSIONS OF A SURGEON 
 AT SKA, AND EXPERIENCES ON A SAIMNG 
 VESSEL OK THE REVENUE CUTTER SERVICE ON 
 A VOYAGE TO SPAIN ANT) THE AZORES ISLANDS 
 
 By 
 
 Walter Wyman, M.D., LL.D. 
 
 Surgeon-General U. S, Public Health and 
 Marine-Hospital Service 
 
 THE GRAFTON PRESS 
 PUBLISHERS NEW YORK 
 
f 
 
 ^f# 
 
 Copyright, 1910, 
 By THE GRAFTON PRESS 
 
 ©CI, A 2781 36 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Outward ........ 3 
 
 CoRUNA ....... 81 
 
 CoRUNA TO FAYAL . . . . . . 161 
 
 Fayal and Homeward . . . . . 191 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 The " S. P. Chase " Frontispiece 
 
 FACING PAGE 
 
 Salmon P. Chase 12 
 
 Captain Henriques 20 
 
 First Lieutenant Congdon .... 30 
 
 Second Lieutenant Howison .... 40 
 
 Third Lieutenant Ross 40 
 
 Surgeon Wyman 50 
 
 Cadets Cantwell, Okie, West and Kennedy 70 
 Cadets Ewing, Starkweather, Jarvis, 
 
 Broadbent and Sill 72 
 
 Old Castle at Entrance of Harbor, Coruna 82 
 
 A View of the Modern Part of Coruna . 88 
 
 In The Modern Part of Coruna . . . 9G 
 
 A Street in Coruna 100 
 
 Church of San Jorge, Coruna . . . .106 
 
 Burial Place of Sir John Moore, Coruna 132 
 
 Sir John Moore 144 
 
 Fayal (Horta), Azores, with Mount Pico 
 
 in Distance 184 
 
 Mount Pico, Azores 186 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 facing page 
 The Capote (headwear) and Capella 
 
 (cloak) as worn in the Azores . . 194< 
 Donkey Ride to the Caldeira — Ready for 
 
 the Start 208 
 
 The " S. P. Chase," as lengthened in 1895, 
 
 to 148 feet 218 
 
 The U. S. Practice Cutter " Itasca," 1907, 
 
 which Superseded the " S. P. Chase " 226 
 
PREFACE 
 
 When in 1907 the S. P. Chase was put 
 out of commission, after thirty years of 
 service, and steam was made to supplant sail 
 in the training of cadets of the Revenue- 
 Cutter Service, the writer recalled his own 
 experiences on this gallant little bark and 
 the running narrative he had prepared and 
 sent to friends on the completion of his 
 voyage. 
 
 To preserve something of the vessel's his- 
 tory and in response to requests of many 
 officers to whom in their younger days the 
 Chase gave nautical skill and learning, the 
 narrative is published. 
 
 The notes and incidents are given with 
 slight exception as they were written during 
 the cruise, being many of them first impres- 
 
PREFACE 
 
 sions received by one at the time unfamiliar 
 with things nautical. Possibly they will re- 
 vive pleasant memories of like experiences 
 in the minds of others or recall familiar fea- 
 tures of their home afloat; and some of the 
 facts recorded may prove interesting, and 
 even useful, to those who for the first time 
 "go down to the sea in ships." 
 
 Walter Wyman. 
 Washington, D. C. 
 
 References: — Sir John Moore, Life of, By James Camck 
 Moore. (London). Battle of Fayal: Naval War of 1812, By 
 Theodore Roosevelt; A History of American Privateers, By 
 Edgar S. Maclay; and U. S. Senate Report No. 270, 47th 
 Congress, 1st Session. 
 
OUTWARD 
 
Toward evening of a bright day in the 
 latter part of May, 1881, a stern- wheel 
 steamboat in the peanut trade, ascending the 
 Tennessee River, was met by a like steamer 
 coming down the river, and as the two vessels 
 passed in midstream the crews gathered at 
 the sides to exchange the customary shouts 
 and gesticulations, saluting each other in 
 unison with the hoarse whistles of the steam- 
 boats. 
 
 Suddenly the crew of the descending boat 
 
 were attracted by the specially urgent cries 
 
 and pointed gestures of the other crew, and, 
 
 looking at the place indicated, found one of 
 
 [3] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 their own number, a colored roustabout, 
 swinging over the guard by his neck, and 
 endeavoring in this picturesque fashion to 
 shuffle off this mortal coil. They hauled him 
 in. He was insane, and with great difficulty 
 was held in restraint while the vessel wended 
 its downward course to the Ohio River, and 
 up the Ohio to Cincinnati. Here, with a 
 feeling of relief, they delivered their burden 
 to the marine ward of Sister Anthony's Hos- 
 pital, and he became my charge. Though 
 in a strait jacket and tied to the bed, con- 
 stant watching was required to prevent the 
 man doing harm to himself and others. This, 
 and his vociferous prayers, varied by most 
 impolite language and continued night and 
 day, made it necessary to obtain telegraphic 
 authority for his immediate removal to the 
 Government Hospital for the Insane at 
 Washington. 
 
 For several reasons, among others a de- 
 sire to visit headquarters, I determined to 
 take him myself, and the railroad authori- 
 [4] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 ties permitted me to fix up a place in one 
 corner of a baggage car, where a mattress 
 was thrown and staples driven in the sides 
 and floor of the car for the attachment of 
 lines and straps to prevent his getting away. 
 The railroad demanded my signature to 
 several papers making me personally liable 
 for any damage that might result to persons 
 or property, involving a possible demand for 
 many thousands of unpossessed dollars; the 
 patient was duly ensconced in his corner of 
 the car, the services of baggagemen were se- 
 cured by an honorarium, and we pulled out 
 on the regular express. He made it inter- 
 esting for the two baggagemen, and once or 
 twice I feared I might be saddled with debt 
 for damage to persons under the liability 
 clause of my contract, but we reached Wash- 
 ington without any serious happening. 
 
 After delivery of the patient at the Gov- 
 ernment Asylum, I reported to the Surgeon- 
 General at his office. "I do not know," said 
 he, "who to send this year on the Chase" 
 [5] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 referring to the customary detail of a 
 medical officer of the Marine-Hospital Ser- 
 vice for the annual cruise of this training 
 vessel of the Revenue-Cutter Service. "Send 
 me," was the reply, to which he assented; 
 adding that for so long a voyage (to Spain) , 
 and on a sailing vessel, involving perhaps 
 some personal risk, he preferred to consult 
 an officer before issuing the order. The of- 
 ficial detail followed. 
 
 Arrived in New Bedford Sunday, June 
 12, and after breakfast at the Parker 
 House, walked down to the bay and found 
 without difficulty the Revenue Bark S. P. 
 Chase, on which I had been ordered to re- 
 port. She appeared small, but graceful in 
 outline and proportion as one could wish. 
 On the pier I met a knot of uniformed 
 cadets, and, inquiring whether Captain Hen- 
 riques was on board, was answered with a 
 cordial "Yes, sir," and polite elevation of the 
 cap, which gave assurance, I thought, of 
 a pleasant association in the future. My 
 [6] 
 
[7] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 sensations were a little peculiar, as for the 
 first time I crossed the deck of a vessel in 
 which I was to spend two or three months, 
 every feature of which was entirely new, and 
 whose officers and men, with whom I must 
 soon mingle intimately, were now perfect 
 strangers. 
 
 In the hasty glance which I had time to 
 give while being conducted toward the cap- 
 tain's cabin, I could but be impressed with 
 the extreme neatness and precision of ar- 
 rangement on every hand — the white deck, 
 burnished guns, coils of rope, furled sails, 
 binnacles, and costumes of the men, present- 
 ing a sight more thoroughly nautical than 
 any I had ever seen. 
 
 Being announced at the companion way, I 
 was invited down and received by the cap- 
 tain. He is a fine-looking man of about fifty 
 years of age, more than six feet in height and 
 broad in proportion, has a blue eye and fair 
 complexion, wears an iron-gray beard neatly 
 trimmed, and was dressed in the uniform of 
 
 [9] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 his service. His cabin is elegant in appear- 
 ance, being finished in dark wood, provided 
 with a handsome new carpet, and the long 
 transoms, which serve at once for storage 
 and as settees, being covered with velvet 
 plush. 
 
 Forward of and adjoining the cabin is 
 the "wardroom" or general sitting and din- 
 ing room of the lieutenants, about ten by 
 twelve feet in size, into which open their 
 staterooms, two on either side. Forward of 
 the wardroom is the cadets' room, called the 
 "steerage"; of similar arrangement, but 
 larger and with six connecting staterooms. 
 To complete now the description of the ves- 
 sel below deck it is only necessary to mention 
 the berth deck, with its bunks and ham- 
 mocks for the crew, and furthest forward of 
 all, the kitchen or galley. We have then, 
 beginning at the stern, the cabin, wardroom, 
 steerage, berth deck, and galley, all com- 
 municating. 
 
 The captain introduced me at once to the 
 [10] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 first, second, and third lieutenants, showed 
 me my stateroom, and made the gratifying 
 announcement that I was expected to mess 
 with him and make his cabin my headquar- 
 ters. We then went above to witness the 
 regular Sunday inspection, which being over 
 
 every one seemed busy in making private 
 preparations for the cruise. It was the last 
 Sunday in port, and the ship being in a short 
 time deserted by all excepting those on duty 
 I found leisure to examine her more closely 
 and to learn the following descriptive facts, 
 which for convenience I will here enter. 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 She is named after Salmon P. Chase, Lin- 
 coln's famous Secretary of the Treasury; 
 was built four years ago for use as a school- 
 ship of the Revenue-Cutter Service; is 114 
 feet in length, 261/2 feet in the beam, draws 
 11 feet, and is of 154 tons burden. She is 
 rigged as a bark — that is, my fresh-water 
 friends, she differs from a ship only in hav- 
 ing fore-and-aft instead of square sails on 
 the mizzen (hindmost) mast. Her deck, 
 slightly sloping from each end toward the 
 center, is well protected by high bulwarks. 
 She is armed with four 2 4 -pound howitzers 
 and carries four boats, named in order of 
 size — launch, cutter, gig and dingey. She has 
 on board for the present cruise 49 men all 
 told— captain, 3 lieutenants, surgeon, 13 
 cadets, boatswain, gunner, carpenter, mas- 
 ter-at-arms, 2 quartermasters, 2 coxswains, 
 10 able seamen, 4 ordinary seamen, 1 ship's 
 cook, 3 stewards — one each for the cabin, 
 wardroom and steerage — and 5 boys. 
 
 Following is the roll of officers and cadets : 
 [12] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 John A Henriques, Captain. 
 
 J. W. Congdon, First Lieutenant. 
 
 John W. Howison, Second Lieutenant. 
 
 Worth G. Ross, Third Lieutenant. 
 
 Walter Wyman, Surgeon. 
 
 H. M. Broadhent, Cadet. 
 
 John C. Moore, Cadet. 
 
 Geo. A. Starkweather, Cadet. 
 
 W. E. W. Hall, Cadet. 
 
 Edward F. Kimball, Cadet. 
 
 Horace B. West, Cadet. 
 
 John C. Cantwell, Cadet. 
 
 Augustus Y. Lowe, Cadet. 
 
 Chas. D. Kennedy, Cadet. 
 
 David H. Jarvis, Cadet. 
 
 James L. Sill, Cadet. 
 
 John B. Okie, Cadet. 
 
 Albert H. Ewing, Cadet. 
 
 It was quite in accord with my inclination 
 
 to find myself left pretty much alone after 
 
 the inspection, for I was tired with visiting 
 
 and traveling. The day, however, was beau- 
 
 [13] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 tiful, and I sauntered out to see the city, 
 In New Bedford I was agreeably surprised. 
 We hear of it in the West as an old seaport, 
 where formerly there was an immense whal- 
 ing business, now amounting to almost 
 nothing; and my impression of the place em- 
 braced a town on the shady side of existence, 
 with decaying wharves and piers, and other 
 evidences of former prosperity, making more 
 conspicuous its present decline. Truly, we 
 who complain of the ignorance of Eastern 
 people with regard to our Western cities, 
 may well rub out a mote or two which pre- 
 vents us from realizing what there is in the 
 smaller cities of the East. 
 
 New Bedford is located on ground sloping 
 gradually to the bay, and giving opportunity 
 for excellent drainage. Coming from smoky 
 Cincinnati and dusty St. Louis, I could not 
 repress an exclamation of surprise as the 
 marked neatness of the city impressed me 
 in every street into which I turned. The 
 houses are of modern architecture and ample 
 [14] 
 
[15] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 size, white as though just from the painters' 
 hands, and shaded by beautiful tall elm trees, 
 whose fresh green leaves reach far out on 
 both sides of the broad streets in lines as 
 straight as a trained hedge. The streets 
 themselves are smooth, being paved with 
 small cobblestones in the business portion of 
 
 the city, elsewhere with gravel made com- 
 pact by the steam roller. 
 
 New Bedford boasts of being the birth- 
 place of Albert Bierstadt, and is a favorite 
 resort for artists. The city is very wealthy 
 and at one time claimed the distinction of 
 having more wealth to each inhabitant than 
 any city in the United States. 
 [17] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 Later in the day I visited the quaint old 
 village of Fair Haven, across the bay, and 
 at night turned into my bunk early, looked 
 out through the air port almost low enough 
 to admit the water, and fell asleep wonder- 
 ing how many waves would have to break 
 
 against that circular piece of glass before 
 the six or seven thousand miles of our voy- 
 aging should be changed from "futurus 
 esse" to "fuit" 
 
 We are to sail Tuesday afternoon, and 
 Monday and until noon of Tuesday I have 
 [18] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 all I wish to do preparing my medicine 
 locker, packing and making various pur- 
 chases. These include a "sou'wester," rub- 
 ber overcoat, and boots for use on deck in 
 stornry weather, a pair of shoes two sizes 
 too large, for they say they shrink and be- 
 come hard to put on, and enough linen to 
 last until we reach Spain, for no washing 
 is allowed on board. In fact, each man is 
 put upon an allowance of one quart of water 
 a day, part of which must be contributed 
 for the cooking of his mess. 
 
 We are not to depart without some cere- 
 mony, for two revenue cutters have put into 
 New Bedford for the purpose of escorting 
 us out to sea. Major Clark, Chief of the 
 Bureau, has come on from Washington, and 
 will go with us down the bay, as will also 
 a party of twenty or more young ladies with 
 the usual small proportion of Massachusetts 
 gentlemen. At about three o'clock the cap- 
 tain instructs the third lieutenant to wig-wag 
 the Gallatin, that we will be ready in twenty 
 [19] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 minutes, and at the expiration of that time 
 a line is passed and we are towed down the 
 bay by the Gallatin, having the Dexter on 
 our port and the tug for returning our 
 friends on the starboard side. The quarter- 
 
 deck presents a gay appearance crowded 
 with ladies and with officers and cadets in 
 full uniform. The officers have wisely bade 
 their last farewells at home. 
 
 I have donned my new uniform for the 
 first time and find it is so new that it gives 
 me away completely. Yet I do my best to 
 [20] 
 
Captain Hexriques 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 sustain the maritime dignity of the port of 
 Cincinnati. "Doctor," asks one of the young 
 ladies, "have you ever been to sea?" "No," 
 I reply, "but as a resident on the banks of 
 the stormy Ohio and a member of the Cin- 
 cinnati Boat Club, I feel that I am not with- 
 out experience," and the very memory of our 
 boat club meeting's at the St. Nicholas braces 
 me for the next attack. "Have you ever 
 seen a whale?" Now, how grateful is the 
 memory of that enterprising citizen who cap- 
 tured, stuffed with ice, and transported on 
 flat cars through the West last winter a small 
 specimen of the Jonah carrier, which saves 
 me an ignominious answer in the negative. 
 
 The time comes for our company to re- 
 turn. The tug is signaled alongside, and 
 with the usual good wishes, hand shaking, 
 adieus, and long-continued waving of hand- 
 kerchiefs and caps, our friends finally are 
 lost to sight. 
 
 The weather is misty with occasional rain, 
 and just about dark the Gallatin signals to 
 [21] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 haul in our tow line; the Dexter sends a 
 boat to take off Major Clark and his little 
 boy, both cutters fire parting salutes as they 
 fade in the fog and darkness, we answer with 
 a Service blue light, and at last we are alone. 
 Now comes a scene of great activity, as we 
 spread all sail. The first lieutenant mounts 
 the horse block, and fires off in quick suc- 
 cession the following orders, not one in ten 
 of which seems intelligible. They are inter- 
 rupted only by the shrill whistle of the boat- 
 swain, and the "Aye, aye, sir," of the men. 
 It is impossible to convey his pronunciation, 
 but here are the orders: Stations for loos- 
 ing sail! Lay aloft! Lay out and loose! 
 Man the tops'l sheets and halyards! Stand 
 by! Let fall! Sheet home! Lay in! Lay 
 down from aloft! Tend to braces! Haul 
 taut ! Belay there ! Hoist away the topsails ! 
 Overhaul the rigging aloft ! Belay your top- 
 sail halyards! Belay your lee main and 
 tops'l braces J Haul taut your weather ones ! 
 Set taut your weather lifts! Board your 
 [22] 
 
[23] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 fore and main tacks and haul aft your 
 sheets! Sheet home your royals and to'gal- 
 lants'ls! Hoist away your halyards! Well 
 your royal and to'gallant braces! Trim aft 
 your spanker sheet, trim over your head 
 sheets! (To the man at the wheel:) Mind 
 your helm, keep her full and by! 
 
 The effect of these orders was quickly seen 
 as, with all sails set excepting spencers and 
 studding sails, we pushed along on our 
 course at the rate of eight knots an hour. A 
 very heavy fog, however, soon set in and 
 made us shorten sail. The doleful fog horn 
 was sounded every two minutes at the bow; 
 every one looked serious, some uncomfor- 
 table, and soon after dark I turned in and 
 slept soundly. 
 
 June 15, Wednesday. Rose at four 
 o'clock by invitation of Lieutenant Ross to 
 see the sun rise on the ocean. This is gen- 
 erally considered a fine spectacle, but it can- 
 not compare with the same event on land. 
 I found all the officers on deck — indeed, the 
 [25] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 captain had been up most of the night, feel- 
 ing his responsibility while in so dense a fog, 
 and still in the line of other vessels. This 
 is my first day at sea, and I note the im- 
 pressions as they occurred to me. My first 
 thought was of seasickness — would I escape 
 it? I was anxious to do so, rather on ac- 
 count of the professional inconvenience than 
 the suffering, and because of the satisfaction 
 there would be in missing it after all the wise 
 shakings of the head, doleful smiles, and 
 premature condolences of friends. Then, 
 too, I knew there must be a wonder in the 
 minds of some on board that a landlubber 
 from Cincinnati should be sent on this cruise, 
 and I was anxious to demonstrate his ability 
 to adapt himself to circumstances. I re- 
 joiced to find myself steady in the epigastri- 
 um, while several of the crew, cadets, and 
 one of the lieutenants were paying tribute to 
 Neptune. I had scarcely any appetite, but 
 managed to eat a little, and on feeling the 
 least uneasiness went on deck, and in the 
 [26] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 fresh air was relieved. It seemed to excite 
 some surprise; the captain called me a brick, 
 and one suffering cadet remarked that he be- 
 lieved the doctors knew some preventive for 
 seasickness which they kept for their own 
 use. 
 
 After an inward conviction that I was all 
 right my attention was excited by the serious 
 appearance of everybody on board. I was 
 surprised at this, as I had thought there 
 would be much life and animation — the same 
 feeling of pleasure that I had at the pros- 
 pect of crossing the ocean and visiting a for- 
 eign nation. Not so, however, but just the 
 contrary. A more bilious-appearing com- 
 pany I have never seen. Even the captain 
 had a yellowish hue to his skin, and the salti- 
 est tars aboard seemed to have absorbed all 
 the bile into their faces. I was alarmed lest 
 the yellowness was in my own vision until I 
 found one cadet who retained the freshness 
 of his complexion. It was a sober, serious, 
 lugubrious day, this first day at sea. I had 
 [27] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 13 on the sick list. At dinner the captain 
 rallied a little and tried to be jocose with 
 his cabin boy (Fish), but Fish "would not" 
 — -his face remained as stolid as a stone wall. 
 I felt that I must be the only one glad 
 to be making the cruise. With the seamen 
 it was necessary labor; with the cadets a 
 
 
 
 training which they would gladly have ex- 
 changed for a cruise along the coast with 
 visits to Newport, Long Branch, and Cape 
 May; and with the officers it meant a sepa- 
 ration from their families and the most dis- 
 agreeable portion of their year's duty ; while 
 in the minds of all there may have been the 
 consciousness of the possible dangers to be 
 [28] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 met before we should again be moored at the 
 New Bedford pier. 
 
 One matter of interest and some surprise 
 was the actual amount of labor involved in 
 sailing a ship. Those living inland may 
 imagine that all there is to be done is to set 
 the sails, hold the wheel, watch the compass, 
 and keep an eye on the weather. On mer- 
 chant vessels, especially when in the trade 
 winds, this is said to be the case. On the 
 Chase, however, I was struck with the sys- 
 tematic division of labor and the necessary 
 amount of detail. 
 
 One of the iirst features to attract notice 
 is the division of time into watches — a divi- 
 sion probably as old as the first ship which 
 navigated the ocean. The 24 hours are di- 
 vided into five watches of four hours each, 
 and two watches each two hours in length, as 
 follows : 
 
 First watch — 8 p.m. to 12 p.m. 
 
 Mid watch — 12 p.m. to 4 a.m. 
 
 Morning watch — 4 a.m. to 8 a.m. 
 [29] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 Forenoon watch — 8 a.m. to 12 m. 
 Afternoon watch — 12 m. to 4 p.m. 
 First dog watch — 4 p.m. to 6 p.m. 
 Second dog watch — 6 p.m. to 8 p.m. 
 There is one stroke of the bell for each half 
 hour in every watch. Thus, in the first watch 
 
 "one bell" means half-past eight; at "five 
 bells" it is half-past ten; at "eight bells" it is 
 twelve o'clock. 
 
 The bearing of the men is another notice- 
 able feature — they are all of them round- 
 shouldered, made so by sleeping in ham- 
 mocks and by the peculiar character of their 
 work in the rigging. When addressed they 
 [30] 
 
First Lieutenant Conch 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 invariably answer with a "sir," and a touch 
 of the cap. 
 
 The day was bright, and with a fair wind 
 and all sails set, excepting spencers, we made 
 our course at about seven knots an hour. As 
 I stood aft at the quarter rail and watched 
 the little vessel plunge her head into the 
 
 waves, break through and scatter them into 
 foam, and with a swish, careen far to one 
 side and receive the spray over her bulwarks, 
 I realized to some extent my idea of deep- 
 sea sailing. The first objects pointed out 
 to me by the captain were the Mother 
 Carey's Chickens (stormy petrels) ; present- 
 ly a school of porpoises came leaping from 
 the water and crossed our bow; then a fin- 
 [81] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 back whale was seen spouting off on the port 
 side. "There she blows!" shouts the look- 
 out. "Where away?" calls another. "Three 
 points off the weather bow," comes the re- 
 ply. The captain calls attention to the dark 
 color of the water, and says we will find it 
 much bluer in the Gulf, as he calls the Gulf 
 Stream, which we shall reach by night. At 
 nine o'clock the boatswain piped my sick- 
 call and I found I had 14 patients — all but 
 three suffering from seasickness. Retired at 
 half-past ten. 
 
 June 16, Thursday. Rose at 7 a.m.; 
 have to, to get breakfast. Shore habits brok- 
 en already; the captain is well satisfied with 
 our progress. Seasick patients all better ex- 
 cepting a few cadets. Caught up with and 
 passed a bark ; captain says we can pass any- 
 thing. Are now in the Gulf Stream, and 
 notice the difference in the color of the water, 
 and also the warmer temperature. Very 
 sleepy to-day. Presume it is the wind and 
 the salt air. 
 
 [32] 
 
 / *c 
 
 Y 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 June 17, Friday, Very sleepy all day, 
 and do not yet feel accustomed to new sur- 
 roundings. Toward night we had a heavy 
 rain. I stood the captain's watch with him, 
 from 8 to 12 midnight, in sou'wester and 
 rubber coat. Phosphorescence of the sea is 
 particularly bright and beautiful to-night, 
 but everything and everybody to-day has 
 seemed somber, moist, and disagreeable. 
 
 June 18, Saturday. Very stormy and 
 rainy all day, with a high sea. A flying fish 
 is washed aboard and is admired for its beau- 
 ty, and is served on our table at supper. To- 
 ward evening it has stopped raining, and on 
 account of a shift in the wind the waves run 
 very high and for the first time I experience, 
 to some degree, the awe with which I expect- 
 ed to be impressed by the ocean. Stand- 
 ing on the horse block and leaning over the 
 quarter rail it certainly is grand to watch 
 the approaching waves come rolling on, high- 
 er than one's head, bearing down ominously 
 on the ship and quickly lifting her — up, up, 
 [33] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 until one must grasp the rail to keep from 
 falling backward, and finds himself suddenly 
 gazing into a deep, newly formed chasm be- 
 low; or glancing toward the deck, to see the 
 forecastle 'way beneath you, as though at the 
 foot of a hill with yourself on its crest — a 
 good-sized sea rolling over the port or lee 
 side and dashing high above the starboard 
 bulwarks as she recovers. 
 
 I shall not soon forget this sight, nor how 
 difficult it was to cross the deck, no part of 
 which was dry, excepting toward the stern. 
 One cadet was thrown from his feet and 
 washed across the deck with great force. If 
 our bulwarks were not so high, there would 
 be great danger of being swept overboard. 
 
 But while this was very grand, and on 
 the whole very enjoyable before dark, it 
 made a sorry-looking place of the cabins at 
 tea time and after. The pitching and roll- 
 ing was so great that it was impossible to 
 stand without holding on to something. 
 Chairs, tables, crockery, books, or anything 
 [34] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 left the least bit carelessly would go spinning 
 around with the greatest velocity. The floors 
 were wet with water which dashed in over the 
 skylights, and any attempt to move from 
 place to place was but a ludicrous series of 
 jerks and slides. It was necessary to brace 
 oneself even when seated, as I found by be- 
 ing suddenly thrown out of my armchair. 
 As the night advanced, the tossing became 
 worse, and the captain said he had never seen 
 the bark roll so badly. It was a difficult 
 matter to sleep. We were obliged to have 
 our leeboards up, and there was a constant 
 succession of rolls from side to side, too vio- 
 lent for a lullaby, and leaving one's muscles 
 sore the next day. Now and then a lunge 
 would come deeper than the rest, and signal- 
 ized by a crash and a derisive laugh of a 
 cadet over some misfortune of his neighbor. 
 As I am called to see some of the seasick 
 cadets, I cannot help quoting, "Oh, sailor 
 boy, where now is thy dream of delight!" 
 The first lieutenant savagelv wants to know 
 [35] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 who it was that wrote "Rocked in the cradle 
 of the deep," and the captan utters murder- 
 ous sentiments against the author of "A life 
 on the ocean wave," who he says never saw 
 the ocean, but lived on a farm in Indiana. 
 However, as four bells are struck I hear the 
 lookout sing, "All's well on the lee cathead," 
 and turn in to get what sleep I can. 
 
 June 19, Sunday. The weather is calmer 
 to-day, and at nine o'clock we have the week- 
 ly muster and inspection. This is one of the 
 prettiest sights the vessel affords. Every- 
 thing is given an extra polish, and put in 
 thorough order for examination. The men 
 are all dressed in blue flannel shirts and 
 trousers and a sailor's cap of the same mate- 
 rial bearing the name "Chase" in gilt letters. 
 The cadets and officers are in dress uniforms 
 with white gloves, and form in a line on the 
 weather side of the vessel, the men forming 
 opposite. The first lieutenant reports "All 
 up, sir," and the captain, first lieutenant and 
 surgeon then go forward and begin the in- 
 [36] 
 
[37] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 spection of the ship, looking into every cup- 
 hoard, ice-chest, pantry and stateroom, and 
 if anything is found wrong the offending 
 party is sharply reprimanded. On the re- 
 turn of the inspectors, the second lieutenant 
 calls the names of the men, who respond 
 with a salute and their rate as seamen. The 
 boatswain then pipes the men down, all 
 salute and break ranks. 
 
 Finish a book called "Multitudinous 
 Seas," and spend the afternoon in arranging 
 my official records. The weather is alter- 
 nately clear and cloudy. I begin to realize 
 for the first time that I am on a long cruise. 
 Coruna is 2,700 miles from the States, and 
 we have made not quite 700. This kind of 
 life must continue at least three weeks before 
 we set foot on land, and then be renewed 
 again for five or six weeks more. I begin 
 to realize that it may become monotonous. 
 The constant splashing of the waves, flap- 
 ping of the sails, creaking of the ship, and 
 never-ceasing motion become wearisome. 
 [39] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 Now and then looking toward the horizon 
 some wave larger than the rest appears for 
 the moment to be a hill, and I get to thinking 
 of terra firm a with a feeling that it would be 
 gratifying to tread it. I think of Broadway, 
 Cincinnati and my accustomed haunts — how 
 pleasant would be a stroll in Eden Park or 
 in Mount Auburn. I also think of St. 
 Louis and the pretty spot in the suburbs 
 where I drove two weeks ago and found an 
 impromptu family picnic. I am impressed 
 with the idea that beautiful as the rolling 
 sea may be, Mother Earth has superior ad- 
 vantages. Still, monotony is one of the 
 things I bargained for, and there is nothing 
 to do but bear it with the best grace possi- 
 ble. I spend the evening in the cabin with 
 the captain and Lieutenant Congdon, ex- 
 changing information upon rattlesnakes, 
 moccasins, tarantulas, sharks, sting rays, 
 etc., and privately note the effect of a sea- 
 faring life on the ability to tell wondrous 
 tales of adventures on land and sea. 
 [40] 
 
Second Lieutenant Howisos 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 June 20, Monday. Everybody is speak- 
 ing of the bad dreams with which they are 
 afflicted. I am no exception, and last night 
 had a regular old-fashioned nightmare — hor- 
 rible in the extreme — every feature of which 
 I can plainly recall to-day. One reason I 
 suppose is because the bunks are so narrow 
 and the bark pitches so violently that one is 
 obliged to sleep on his back. The cadets and 
 other officers have been likewise afflicted, and 
 there is fine opportunity for foreboding by 
 the superstitious. The day is fair, seasick 
 patients are all well, and I spend most of the 
 time in reading. 
 
 June 21, Tuesday. We have been out 
 just one week to-day, and have made about 
 1,000 miles — very good sailing. We have 
 still near 2,000 more to go. It is a beauti- 
 ful day, and for the first time there appears 
 an air of joviality on board. After supper, 
 Mr. Howison plays the guitar, some of the 
 cadets sing choruses, while others with the 
 officers pitch grummets — a game resembling 
 [41] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 quoits. The men on the forward deck are 
 full of fun, too, and engage in several novel 
 and rough sports. I kept the captain's 
 watch with him from 8 till midnight. Thus 
 far it is the king watch — made thirty-nine 
 miles in the four hours. 
 
 One feature of my first night standing 
 watch with the captain I shall never forget. 
 We had heen pacing up and down for three 
 hours — the captain and myself on one side, 
 the quartermaster and the two cadets on 
 the other, sometimes commenting on the 
 weather, blinking into the binnacle, or re- 
 turning to individual reflections. It was 
 fearfully dull and monotonous, not to say 
 tiresome — when suddenly I was startled by 
 the clarion voice of the captain, who shouted 
 "Quartermaster!" with a sort of Santa Claus 
 intonation which implied that something 
 good was coming. 
 
 After a rhetorical pause, "Quartermas- 
 ter!" again said the captain, dwelling on his 
 [42] 
 
[43] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 words, "go down into the cabin and bring 
 up that pail of lunch." 
 
 Pail? Pail sounds a little suspicious, but 
 doubtless there is some nautical reason which 
 substitutes pail for hamper. 
 
 Lunch! 'Tis a gracious sound. Harmoni- 
 ous to the ear. "Now, that," quoth I to my- 
 self, "is just the proper thing. The captain's 
 a brick and has a good idea of what is due 
 to his position the night he stands watch." 
 A pail of lunch! and already I felt like Oli- 
 ver Twist asking for more. Visions of what 
 might be within the pail served to suppress 
 the impatience at the quartermaster's too de- 
 liberate execution of the order. But the 
 quartermaster was not excited — he had had 
 experience. 
 
 Doubtless, thought I, this is some extra 
 lunch prepared by kindly hands before sail- 
 ing and reserved for such occasions. What 
 would it be? Cold chicken at least, and salad, 
 maybe, mince pie possibly, and fruit and a 
 neat little bottle of sherry in all probability. 
 
 [ *s ] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 Then my imagination ran off with me, for I 
 was anhungered, and the thought of some- 
 thing which was not cooked by our greasy 
 steward made me draw mental pictures of 
 hampers such as Dickens loves to write 
 about. But presently the lunch arrives, and 
 the size of the tin pail is satisfactory. Large 
 and round like a wooden well bucket, but 
 much deeper. It has a tight-fitting cover, 
 which the captain loses no time in removing, 
 but he lifts the pail with suspicious ease. The 
 night is dark, but by the light of the stars 
 above there is an interested group near the 
 wheel. The captain is its center, and round 
 him range the quartermaster, cadets, and 
 myself, while the steersman at the wheel 
 looks wistfully on. 
 
 The cover is off! But what is the captain 
 doing? Trying on a tin sleeve, or to run 
 his arm through the pail? We bend closer. 
 A hollow sound strikes the ear. 'Tis the 
 captain's knuckles on the bottom of the pail. 
 Evidently he's fishing for something. And 
 [ 46 ] 
 
Third Lieutenant Ross 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 now, Eureka! Habet! Three small ginger- 
 snaps come forth and with due solemnity are 
 presented to one who receives them in a kind 
 of stupor, when the arm goes down on an- 
 other fishing expedition, and finally as many 
 casts are made as there are guests at this 
 noble feast. 
 
 I have never but once seen equaled the 
 combined dignity and generosity with which 
 these ginger-snaps were handed around three 
 at a time to each in order of his rank, not for- 
 getting the man at the wheel— never but 
 once, and that was when Colonel Sellers set 
 up the turnips and water for his guest. That 
 night on retiring, instead of offering a prayer 
 for safety, I prayed for forgiveness for the 
 kind captain for inflicting so grievous a dis- 
 appointment on his friend and shipmate. 
 
 I think this is a good time to describe the 
 duties and personnel of our officers. The 
 captain, very properly, has no set duties to 
 perform, his responsibility and the general 
 oversight being a sufficient burden. At sea 
 [47] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 he is a monarch whose slightest wish is re- 
 garded as law. Every morning he receives 
 from the first lieutenant a report as to the 
 condition of the ship and all on board ; three 
 times a day a report from the second lieu- 
 tenant showing our exact position on the 
 chart ; dictates the course, often goes on deck 
 and gives orders to shorten or make more 
 sail, sharply corrects any lack of seamanship 
 in men or cadets, gives his prognosis of the 
 weather, which you are expected to recall if 
 verified and forget if not, is on deck fre- 
 quently at night, especially in foggy weath- 
 er, brags of his ship, and is the only one on 
 board allowed to spit to windward if he 
 chooses. 
 
 Personally our captain has had much ex- 
 perience on the ocean, is very cautious, affa- 
 ble, and popular with his crew and officers. 
 He complains a great deal at being sent to 
 sea, allows his mind to dwell upon his home, 
 frequently breaks forth with a "Gracious, 
 how I'd like to see that wife and boy of 
 [48] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 miiieT' and spends all his spare time in writ- 
 ing to them. He is a miserable judge of 
 cooking, and our mess is the poorest on the 
 ship. Our steward, a Portuguese, fills his 
 soup with red pepper, makes the queerest- 
 looking coffee, brings on canned stuff vilely 
 green, and into his dessert seems to empty 
 both the sugar bowl and whole bottle of 
 flavoring extract. Every day I get up from 
 the table worse than dissatisfied, while the 
 captain smacks his lips and says to Fish, 
 "Ah! tell the steward that's a 
 first-rate dinner." 
 
 His early love for the sea 
 is made evident by one or 
 two india-ink decorations tat- 
 tooed on his arm. He sits 
 down terribly on anybody 
 who whistles, and in calm 
 weather sticks his knife in 
 the mast with some possible 
 faith in its efficacy in wooing iEolus. By the 
 [49] 
 
 '\\\\\\\ 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 way, he leaves it there until a wind does 
 come, so that it has never been known to fail. 
 The first lieutenant is the executive officer 
 and ranks next to the captain. He is obliged 
 to stand his watch in turn with the other lieu- 
 tenants, and besides instructing the cadets 
 in seamanship, is charged with the sanitary 
 condition of the vessel — in fact, you might 
 call him an exacting housekeeper. Every 
 day he personally inspects the ship through- 
 out, and exacts personal cleanliness in the 
 men. He receives also reports from all the 
 petty officers, and fifteen minutes before 
 each meal tastes a sample of food for the 
 men brought to him by the ship's cook. Per- 
 sonally our first lieutenant is thickset, with 
 red hair and ruddy countenance, a red mus- 
 tache and a ready tongue, vigorous, and so 
 used to finding fault on board ship that when 
 he tries to be pleasant you are at a loss to 
 understand him. He is a man of strong 
 sense, is the heartiest eater on board, and in 
 fact is what vou might call "intense." He 
 [50] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 is a thorough seaman, comes from a long 
 line of seagoing ancestors, talks consider- 
 ably of an uncle (supposed by some to be 
 mythical) with whom he has sailed every- 
 where and met with every possible incident 
 of sea life — wrecked, chased by pirates, ad- 
 ventures with sharks, cholera epidemics in 
 India, and remarkable proposals for being 
 received matrimonially into wealthy fami- 
 lies in Holland and South America. He is 
 without doubt a fine officer, but I cannot 
 think of him except in connection with the 
 wardroom boy "Fin," who more frequently 
 than any one else fell beneath his wrathful 
 vigilance. "Fin" is himself a character — 
 one of those tall, pale boys with white hair 
 and innocent blue eyes, who asked for a 
 Bible soon after leaving port, and excited 
 favorable comment by writing a daily note 
 for his mother. But I stumbled on this long 
 entry once, and found that it was solely a 
 record of the weather. 
 
 To return to our officer. "Bread! Fin, 
 [51] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 bread!" demands the first lieutenant at the 
 table. Fin turns pale and passes the bread. 
 "Fin, bring me a clean plate!" Fin turns to 
 obey. "Have you got any more waffles?" 
 Fin pauses to reply. "Well, don't stop there 
 to talk all day — go on and get the plate. 
 Can't you answer and walk too?" 
 
 One evening the lieutenant lay down and 
 instructed the boy to call him at eight 
 o'clock, at which time he was to go on watch. 
 Promptly at eight he was called, and an- 
 swered, but alas, slept over some fifteen min- 
 utes, and was therefore late on deck. Now, 
 the first lieutenant must never be at fault, 
 yet somebody must be blamed, and discipline 
 requires some notice of it, too. According- 
 ly the convenient Fin is hauled over the coals 
 for not calling "properly," and condemned 
 to stand the midnight watch; and, to make 
 sure in the dark that he is there, he is made 
 to straddle the gallus frame, by which means 
 his suspended legs may be seen against the 
 starlit sky. But here the ingenuity of Mr. 
 [52] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 Fin places him way in the lead, for, tying 
 his boots together, he hangs them over the 
 beam, creeps into the forecastle, and en- 
 joys his usual slumber. 
 
 The second lieutenant is the navigating 
 officer — finds the position of the ship three 
 times a day, looks after the log, and finds the 
 latitude every day at noon, and takes time 
 sights from which to work up the longitude. 
 He is tall and handsome — has a family to 
 whom he is devoted, but has the good taste 
 not to utter constant complaints about the 
 trip and longing for the return. He is a 
 fair musician, has a good sense of humor, 
 and on occasion gets off in melodramatic 
 tones the following description of a rescue 
 at sea : 
 
 "Indiana, having recovered her senses, 
 found herself in a half-rate, stay-braced, 
 corvette brig; and going on deck, saw to her 
 dismay that the clewlines, taffrail and miz- 
 zenmast were all set, and she was standing 
 twenty points to starboard. 
 [53] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 ' 'Brace the fo'castle, my boys!' sang out 
 Ferox. 'There's a storm brewing in the 
 north-southeast.' 
 
 "The panic-stricken sailors hastened to 
 obey, when 'Ship ahoy!' yelled the mate, and 
 Ferox, with the aid of a powerful glass, dis- 
 covered an oyster boat about a quarter of a 
 mile off, bearing slowly and majestically 
 down on them. 
 
 ' 'Put the jolly-boat on her hull! Take 
 down her cutwater and furl her anchor!' 
 shouted Ferox in a voice of thunder. But 
 Indiana, who had watched them with clasped 
 hands and streaming eyes, saw to her un- 
 utterable delight that in spite of their ut- 
 most exertion, the oyster boat was slowly and 
 surely gaining on them. 
 
 ' 'Down Math the mainmast ! Up with the 
 wheel! Off with the braces! And knock in 
 her knees !' 
 
 "But here the oyster boat grazed her sides, 
 Indiana sprang lightly on board, and was 
 saved." 
 
 [54] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 The third lieutenant has his regular watch 
 to keep, gives occasional instructions to the 
 cadets, looks after the supplies for his own 
 mess and for the men, and has besides certain 
 clerical duties to perform. He is a young 
 man of ability and intelligence — one of the 
 first graduates of the cadet school in which 
 he is now instructor, and expects to be mar- 
 ried soon after the present cruise. 
 
 June 22, Wednesday. Last night we had 
 a rough sea, with frequent small gales. This 
 morning it is raining and everything is 
 sticky, moist and uncomfortable. The for- 
 mer seasick patients, who were well day be- 
 fore yesterday, are all suffering again to- 
 day. I have a sense of nausea myself, and 
 feel bad generally, and spend most of my 
 time in the cabin reading. In the afternoon 
 it clears up, and with a stiff breeze, high 
 waves, and going ten knots an hour, the sail- 
 ing is grand. At 4.30 p.m. the cadets are 
 summoned on the quarterdeck and have a 
 recitation upon the rigging and other parts 
 [55] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 of the vessel, and naval phraseology. We 
 have made two hundred and thirty-eight 
 miles in the last twenty-four hours. 
 
 June 24, Friday. Weather is pleasant 
 and winds favoring. We hope now to make 
 Coruna inside of twenty days from the start, 
 and spend the Fourth in port. The cadets 
 are engaged in various duties pertaining 
 to manual seamanship, such as sailmaking, 
 roping sail, capping rigging, worming, par- 
 celing, and serving of bucket bales, etc., 
 grafting, seizing, and splicing, making 
 grummets, bunt gaskets and fancy straps, 
 and pointing and knotting. 
 
 The question is now being agitated by 
 the third lieutenant and myself whether we 
 can induce the captain to go to Bordeaux, 
 which is but one night's ride from Paris by 
 rail. It would be a fine scheme, but we were 
 doomed to disappointment. 
 
 June 25, Saturday. At 9 a.m. we sight 
 the island of Corvo, the most northerly of 
 the Azores. This sighting of land at the 
 [56] 
 
Si Ul.llIN W'yman 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 time expected, after sailing a thousand miles, 
 and having been at sea eleven days, is a beau- 
 tiful demonstration of the accuracy of navi- 
 gation as a science. A little before nine the 
 second lieutenant remarks that we should 
 soon see Corvo, and sends a man aloft to 
 sight it. Shortly "Land O !" is shouted from 
 the foreroyal, and presently from the deck 
 we can see a bold cliff rising gradually out 
 of the mist. The first feeling of insecurity 
 which I have is caused by the sight of this 
 land. How safe we are in the open sea, and 
 how dangerous if, through any chance, we 
 should be drifted toward that cliff. We have 
 sighted the island only for the purpose of 
 testing our chronometer, and we pass at a 
 distance of seven or eight miles and can see 
 the companion island, Floris, further to 
 southward. At night it sets in damp. I 
 stand the captain's watch with him (from 
 eight to twelve every fourth night), and see 
 a large comet in the north. We are making 
 six knots an hour. 
 
 [57] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 Monday we are sailing briskly at the rate 
 of eight knots an hour, but, unfortunately, 
 in the wrong direction. For the first time 
 the wind is against us, and instead of steer- 
 ing N. E., we are obliged to go S. E. by S., 
 one-half S., which course, if continued, would 
 land us somewhere in Africa instead of 
 Spain. 
 
 June 28, Tuesday. Yesterday and to-day 
 we make no real progress on account of head 
 winds. We have been out now two weeks, 
 and are only about eight hundred miles from 
 Coruna. After our fine run of seventeen 
 hundred miles in eleven days it seems unfor- 
 tunate to have our voyage delayed, but we 
 are entirely dependent on the winds. The 
 captain says that the northeast and southeast 
 winds in this locality are apt to blow in cycles 
 of three days, or some multiple of three, and 
 our experience was in accord with this 
 theory. In this connection may be men- 
 tioned the fact that the waves in a heavy sea 
 seem also to come in threes — three consecu- 
 [58] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 tivc large ones being followed by three small 
 ones. 
 
 The sobriety of this cruise is still impres- 
 sive, and I find I have not my usual spirits 
 myself. At the table I have a feeling of 
 nausea excited by what is spread before us, 
 and it does seem as though our steward in- 
 creases the villainy of his galley compounds 
 the longer we are at sea. 
 
 At night it is misty and foggy, with no 
 breeze, and we seem to be drifting along into 
 the unknown. The sails hang limp, and as 
 there is no occasion to change them there is 
 nothing stirring aboard. An unnatural quiet 
 seems to pervade the vessel and the waters 
 surrounding. Only occasionally can a star be 
 seen, and one can feel the surrounding gloom 
 as the vessel simply dips up and down with 
 the long swells, and apparently is not going 
 ahead at all. It gives a feeling of lonesome- 
 ness and isolation, which grows into one of 
 ill-defined apprehension, or foreboding, as if 
 something must be going to happen. 
 
 [59] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 I find myself talking with Lieutenant 
 Ross, who is off duty, and we are on deck 
 leaning over the rail. His talk is in keeping 
 with the situation. He remarks that after 
 all the sea is but a desert, full of dangers, 
 known and unknown; that there must be 
 some cause for the superstitions of sailors. 
 Take the matter of Friday, for instance. 
 No one would dare to launch a ship on Fri- 
 day, or start on a long voyage that day. 
 There was a Scotchman once, the owner of 
 numerous vessels, who determined to knock 
 out the superstition about Friday. So he 
 laid the keel of a new ship on Friday, 
 launched her on Friday, put her in commis- 
 sion on Friday, and made her set sail from 
 Glasgow on a Friday for India, and she 
 passed out to sea and was never heard from 
 again. There have been plenty of ships 
 never heard from, apparently just swallowed 
 up by the sea with every soul on board — 
 "Sailed away beyond the horizon and seen 
 no more." He recited the case of a naval 
 [60] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 vessel in the Mediterranean that put out 
 from one port for another — never heard of 
 again; and told of other instances, particu- 
 larly of two men-of-war, one English and 
 the other American, hoth strangely having 
 the same name, Wasp, that had the same 
 fate — just dropped off the face of the waters 
 and no tidings or wreckage of them ever 
 came ashore. 
 
 Some theories are that a meteor may strike 
 a vessel ; then there are sunken derelicts ; and 
 sea monsters are not admitted to be entirely 
 a myth ; and of course there's always danger 
 of a fire at sea. The lieutenant talks about 
 the Sargasso Sea, a part of the Atlantic 
 where the seaweed is so thick that vessels 
 getting into it may be held there day after 
 day for weeks before they can get out. Then 
 the conversation turns on other cheerful sub- 
 jects — waterspouts and tidal waves. Whirl- 
 winds over the ocean cause the waterspouts. 
 They come with a big black cloud, the spout 
 reaching from the cloud to the water in the 
 [61] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 shape of a funnel, and are almost sure de- 
 struction to any ships they strike. Ship cap- 
 tains fire into a waterspout to break it — 
 that is, when they see it coming; but of 
 course on a night like this it could not be 
 seen. With this statement, uneasily shifting 
 position, I vainly try to pierce the gloom 
 over the rail. As to tidal waves, thejr are 
 caused either by the action of the sun and 
 moon or by submarine earthquakes, and 
 come in the shape of a big ball of water 
 racing across the ocean, often just when you 
 would least expect it, and many mysterious- 
 ly lost ships may have been engulfed and 
 destroyed by this marine terror. 
 
 All this wears on one's nerves, and I won- 
 der if any of these things are going to hap- 
 pen on this voyage. I slant my eye toward 
 the lieutenant, to see what he is giving me, 
 but there is no sign of "stuffing" humor. 
 He is apparently in the doldrums himself. 
 Without admitting it, I go to my bunk with 
 an uncanny feeling, greatly impressed with 
 [62] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 the "mysteries of the great deep," with a 
 hankering for land, and glad to be gath- 
 ered into the arms of Morpheus. 
 
 June 30, Thursday. A fine day. Ship 
 on her course, but beating against a head 
 wind, and making slight progress. We are 
 beginning to be impatient as we near the 
 continent, and Cadet Sill, who has been the 
 sickest man on board*, expresses the general 
 sentiment when he says that longitude is all 
 that interests him now. This evening, after 
 supper, while seated on the horse block, I 
 forgot myself so far as to violate the well- 
 understood rule against whistling on ship- 
 board, and quite unconsciously launched 
 quietly into a bar of "Annie Laurie." 
 "Great Thunder!" cried the captain, "who's 
 that whistling? You, doctor? Great Guns! 
 you'll have us going under double-reefed 
 topsails and royals in the squalliest kind of 
 weather before morning." I was quite taken 
 aback, but assumed a solicitude befitting the 
 occasion, and begged the captain to stick his 
 ~ [ 63 ] 
 
[64 J 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 jack-knife in the mizzenmast as a propitia- 
 tion to the gods for my dangerous offense. 
 The captain looked serious, but said no more, 
 and there was no more whistling. 
 
 July 4. The last three days have been 
 uneventful and our progress slow. We had 
 hoped to celebrate the glorious Fourth in 
 port, but instead we pass a quiet, pleasant 
 day at sea, without special ceremony. None 
 but necessary work is exacted from the men 
 or cadets, and, as is customary, extra pro- 
 visions are contributed to the berth-deck 
 mess from the messes of the cabin, wardroom 
 and steerage. Such contributions are called 
 "manavelins." 
 
 A strange vocabulary prevails among 
 deep-sea sailors, such as the crew of the 
 Chase. They have their own lingo and terms 
 for almost everything. "Lobscouse" is a 
 stew of vegetables, meat and hard bread. A 
 "banyan meal" is a meal without meat. Then 
 they have "punganyan stew," "hourang pud- 
 ding," and "plum duff" (a kind of pud- 
 [65] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 ding) , and the salt meat is kept on the berth 
 deck in the "harness cask." And, as to the 
 ship and its rigging, their talk to a landsman 
 would seem like a foreign language. 
 
 Toward sunset of this Fourth of July, I 
 am interested in watching two of the crew. 
 Slim and Dismal Aleck, promenading the 
 forward deck. They are as nautical as any- 
 thing in sight. They've had a good dinner, 
 and, dressed in their holiday suits, are evi- 
 dently feeling good, not jovial and boister- 
 ous, but just satisfied and dignified, as be- 
 comes gentlemen of the sea, and they swag- 
 ger as though on an Ocean Broadway. 
 
 They certainly present a picturesque ap- 
 pearance, the long and the short of it, both 
 of them bowlegged, but the lengthy Slim the 
 more so. As he comes toward me the day- 
 light shows between his knees, his trousers 
 flare at the bottom, his shirt, with broad, 
 decorated collar, is full and free, except 
 where gathered in at his narrow waist, and 
 his round cap with "Chase" emblazoned in 
 [66] 
 
[07] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 gold letters on the ribbon is set jauntily, with 
 the ends of the ribbon flapping in the breeze. 
 Dismal Aleck presents the same appearance, 
 only he's a foot shorter. 
 
 They've got their sea-legs on, and in a 
 minute you could tell they were old salts. 
 They are very earnest and serious in their 
 conversation, and look as though they might 
 be plotting mutiny, but they are only tell- 
 ing each other stories. 
 
 July 5. We are making splendid head- 
 way now — going at the rate of ten knots an 
 hour. In the afternoon we have a fire drill. 
 Several days ago every one on board was as- 
 signed his station and duty in case of fire, 
 and the alarm is sounded to-day without 
 premonition by the loud ringing of the bell. 
 Instantly there was the greatest scurrying 
 to and fro, and in less than two minutes every 
 man was at his place, the hatches were tight- 
 ly closed, the men at the pumps, and two 
 good streams of water playing on an imagin- 
 ary fire. My own part is at the medicine 
 [69] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 locker, where a boy is stationed with me 
 to help throw overboard combustible mate- 
 rial. 
 
 In the evening a school of porpoises follow 
 and come alongside the vessel. It surprises 
 me to see them keep up so easily, though we 
 are making ten knots an hour, but I am told 
 they are capable of nearly three times this 
 speed. They are very graceful, leaping from 
 the water with great vigor, giving themselves 
 a vigorous little shake while in the air, and 
 diving again into the sea at all angles. They 
 are all around us, and one can almost imag- 
 ine he hears them laugh, so pleased do they 
 seem. They might be termed the "sports" 
 of the sea. 
 
 July 9. The last three days have been 
 uneventful; have occupied the time in read- 
 ing. To-day we have a heavy fog. About 
 four o'clock Cadet Starkweather went aloft 
 to look for land and sighted Cape Finisterre. 
 The captain immediately wore ship to stand 
 [70] 
 
Cadet ( ' \ ntwei i 
 Cadet Oku 
 
 Cadet W i 
 Cadet Kennedy 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 off from shore. We hope now to see Coruna 
 in the morning. 
 
 It is foggy again at night, and, being off 
 shore, and a strange shore at that, the cap- 
 tain concludes to take soundings, and orders 
 the quartermaster to stand by to heave the 
 lead- I watch the performance with a good 
 deal of interest, and the officer on deck ex- 
 plains the meanings of the terms as they are 
 called out by the quartermaster with a musi- 
 cal intonation. The lead is thrown over and 
 the line attached to it is marked to signify the 
 various depths. For two fathoms the mark is 
 two strips of leather, for three fathoms, three 
 strips, the five-fathoms mark is a white rag, 
 the seven-fathoms mark a red rag, and for 
 ten fathoms the mark is a piece of leather 
 with a hole in it, etc. A fathom is six feet. 
 
 In calling off his soundings, the quarter- 
 master reports in fathoms and quarters, 
 thus: "By the mark three!" means three 
 fathoms; "And a quarter three!" means three 
 and one-quarter fathoms; "And a quarter 
 [71] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 less four!" means three and three-quarters 
 fathoms; "By the deep four!" means four 
 fathoms. There is no mark on the line for 
 four fathoms ; as stated above, the marks are 
 at three, five, seven, ten, etc., so when the 
 measurement is exactly four, or six, or eight 
 fathoms, the cry is "By the deep four!" or 
 "By the deep six!" etc. In other 'words, the 
 unmarked fathoms are called deeps. 
 
 The markings just mentioned are those 
 for use with the hand lead. Heavier leads 
 and additional markings on the lines are used 
 for deap-sea soundings. To understand 
 soundings you have to become familiar with 
 the "marks and deeps." 
 
 I do not recall what depths our soundings 
 gave us, but the intonation reminded me of 
 the soundings on Mississippi River boats, 
 where it is feet instead of fathoms, and where 
 the pilot is so far above the lower deck that 
 the captain has to take his stand on the hur- 
 ricane deck and transmit the sing-song news 
 from the leadsman below to the pilot above ; 
 [72] 
 
Cadet Ewini 
 
 Cadet Stab k w eat i i eh 
 
 Cadet 
 
 Hlio VDBENT 
 
 Cad St 
 
 UlVla 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 and I amused the officer of the deck hy tell- 
 ing him the story of a man who begged the 
 captain of a Mississippi River steamboat to 
 let him work his passage down the river from 
 St. Louis to Memphis. "What kind of work 
 can you do?" asked the captain. "Any- 
 thing," was the reply. "Can you take sound- 
 ings?" "Certainly." "Well," said the cap- 
 tain, "I may need a man for that, and I'll 
 take you." When near Memphis, the pilot 
 blew his whistle for the leadsman, the cap- 
 tain took his place on the hurricane deck, 
 and the man with the lead began heaving it 
 and shouting a musical refrain, as follows: 
 "He ho!" "Ho he hoy!" "Ho ho!" "What 
 does he say, captain?" shouts the pilot. "I 
 can't understand him," replies the captain, 
 "Speak up plainer down there!" "He ho!" 
 "He ho hoy!" again sings the leadsman. 
 Down goes the captain in a towering wrath 
 and confronts his able leadsman on the lower 
 deck. 
 
 "What kind of soundings is that, you 
 [73] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 blank blank fool? I can't understand a word 
 you say!" 
 
 "Well, to tell the truth," replied the man 
 who was working his way, "I know the tune 
 very well, but I never did know the words." 
 
 July 10, Sunday. Bright day, but a 
 great deal of moisture in the air, as has been 
 the case most all the way over. We are in 
 sight of land nearly all day, but the wind is 
 unfavorable, and we are obliged to tack ship 
 frequently in order to weather the capes, 
 Torrinano and Villano. The land is of a 
 mountainous character, with foothills run- 
 ning down to the ocean. There seems to be 
 no soil, but rough as it is, it is pleasant to 
 look upon. We pass a number of steamers 
 and in the afternoon come very close to a 
 Swedish brig, with which we exchange sig- 
 nals. At night, we have a beautiful full 
 moon, but we should appreciate it more if 
 there was a fresh breeze with it, carrying us 
 into Coruna. 
 
 July 11, Monday. Twenty-eight days 
 [74] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 from New Bedford. We are within thirty 
 or forty miles of Coruna, but have a light 
 breeze all day, and that in the wrong quar- 
 ter. We pass several steamers and small 
 vessels, and at '3.30 p.m. sight an island eight 
 miles distant lined with white breakers. By 
 the lighthouse and the neighboring rocks, 
 which are accurately portrayed on the chart, 
 we know these to be the Sisargo Islands, 
 just twenty-five miles from Coruna. The 
 wind is provokingly light and soon becomes 
 almost calm. The next point to be looked for 
 is the "Tower of Hercules," with its flash- 
 ing light, located at Coruna. The captain 
 announces his intention of going into the har- 
 bor during the night, provided it is not 
 cloudy. We are all tired out by this con- 
 stant pounding against head winds, tacking 
 and wearing ship; and our slow progress is 
 the more provoking, knowing that we are 
 within so short a distance of our destination. 
 About nine o'clock we sight off to starboard 
 the flashing light of the Tower of Hercules, 
 [75] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 burning low and flashing brightly alternate- 
 ly every two minutes. Presently another 
 light is distinguished off to port, and our po- 
 sition is made doubly sure. We have yet 
 to look for another light which marks the 
 entrance to the inner harbor, and around 
 which we have to make almost a right angle. 
 There is something weird in this night- 
 prowling on a foreign coast, after a month 
 at sea, finding our own way without a pilot 
 into a port where no one on board has ever 
 before been. Under other circumstances we 
 might wait until morning, but all feel that 
 we must get in to-night and have our sus- 
 pense ended. At about eleven o'clock I 
 imagine it will take four or five hours before 
 we reach our anchorage, and I turn in, but 
 am shortly called by order of the captain, 
 who thinks a quarantine officer may board 
 us. The tide and favoring wind have carried 
 us in rapidly, and we are about to cast 
 anchor. 
 
 It is a peculiar sensation — before us lies 
 [76] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 the Spanish city with its glimmering lights, 
 and some of its peculiarities evident even at 
 this hour, midnight. Around us are a few 
 sailing vessels and steamers, perhaps a dozen, 
 all at anchor, for the city has no docks. Here 
 are we nearly 3,000 miles from home (4,000 
 for me) in a strange port, where a foreign 
 language is spoken, unannounced and unex- 
 pected. What will they think of us to-mor- 
 row, when they see our cutter riding at anchor 
 in their harbor, and what shall be our experi- 
 ence in that city, now so utterly strange? 
 But I am aroused from these thoughts by 
 the spirited action on board. Everybody is 
 piped up by the cheerful whistle of the boat- 
 swain, sail is reduced to topsails, jib and 
 spanker, the anchor pin is knocked away, 
 and the chain rattles out some twenty fath- 
 oms or more; in a few minutes the yards 
 aloft are covered with the men and cadets, 
 reefing and furling, and shortly, as though 
 in a transformation scene, the broad sails 
 are all furled, and our lofty spars stand out 
 [77] 
 
OUTWARD 
 
 against the sky, gaunt and grim. Every- 
 thing is made snug and fast, and between 1 
 and 2 a.m. we turn in, thankful to have made 
 our port. 
 
 But I now miss the rolling of the bark; 
 the quiet is too great, and for a time I have 
 the same feeling of nausea which was excited 
 at first by the ocean swells. 
 
 [78] 
 
CORUNA 
 
Coruna, capital of the most important 
 province of northern Spain, is situated at 
 its northwestern extremity. I was unable to 
 find any history of the place, but learned 
 that it is a city of 40,000 inhabitants, very 
 old, but of interest historically only as be- 
 ing the burial place of Sir John Moore, and 
 the point to which the remains of the Span- 
 ish Armada repaired after its dissolution. 
 The climate is pleasant, being free from 
 either excessive heat or cold. The officers 
 who are familiar with Spanish towns berated 
 this one as being entirely without interest 
 or attractive feature, but I noted that they 
 expressed their opinion before they had seen 
 the city, and it would have taken a wonder- 
 ful place to excite their attention. 
 
 "All that he sees in Bagdad 
 Is the Tigris to float him away." 
 [81] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 To myself who had never seen a Spanish 
 city before it was full of interest, and I con- 
 cluded that the fact of its being of little note 
 — out of the run of travel — and entirely un- 
 
 influenced by any foreign element in its 
 population, made it all the more valuable to 
 one who wished to see genuine Spanish life. 
 The harbor was acknowledged by all to 
 be the most picturesque we had ever seen. 
 The inner portion resembles in shape the let- 
 [82] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 ter U, and is about a mile and a half in 
 length by a half mile in width, and is fringed 
 around its whole border by the buildings and 
 walls of the city. At the curved end of the 
 U nothing can be seen but the Alamada 
 and the granite buildings beyond, but back 
 of its eastern or inner arm rise the foothills, 
 
 colored in beautiful variety, with gardens, 
 pastures, fields of different grains and vine- 
 yards — crowned with old walls and towers 
 and crumbling fortresses, and increasing in 
 size toward the midland until lost in moun- 
 tains of respectable height. We were at a 
 loss to interpret the meaning of the old tow- 
 ers which stood in line at almost regular in- 
 [83] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 tervals as far as we could see, and were in- 
 formed that they were old signal towers ; the 
 sea extremity of a system by which, with the 
 use of flags, information was in former 
 times conveyed inland, The harbor has for 
 its western or outer arm a projecting tongue 
 of land closely built upon, and its distal half 
 covered with fortifications and large bar- 
 racks for the accommodation of the soldiery. 
 Its point is tipped by a little island that 
 seems almost thrown in for artistic effect, 
 which is made complete by its holding just 
 within the compass of its area an ancient 
 castle, as perfectly typical I believe as could 
 be found anywhere. Here you may see 
 everything pertaining to a castle of the olden 
 time, the drawbridge, the outer wall and 
 moat, excepting where the sea renders these 
 last unnecessary, parapet, rampart, tower, 
 and turrets, with their merlons and em- 
 brasures, the barrack, barbacan and belfry; 
 with outline set grim and square against the 
 sea beyond — its stones gray and mellowed 
 [84] 
 
-, 4- - 
 
 [85] 
 
COHUNA 
 
 with an evident antiquity, and suggestive of 
 the Middle Ages. "How old is that castle?" 
 I inquired. "Well, it's very old, but has 
 been kept in pretty good repair, and is still 
 occupied by the government," was the only 
 
 answer I could 
 get. 
 
 On leaving the 
 ship to go ashore, 
 the first charac- 
 teristic mark of 
 S p a n is h enter- 
 prise is seen on 
 the pier at which 
 we land. In the States this would natural- 
 ly be extended to double its length to per- 
 mit ships to unload alongside. That would 
 be too fast for the Spaniard, however, so 
 he has to have a large number of lighters, 
 the use of which requires a double handling 
 of the merchandise. 
 
 On entering the city the first thing I no- 
 tice is the peasantry — a class of people with 
 [87] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 which fortunately we have none to corre- 
 spond. They seem to be very numerous, and 
 look as ignorant as they are said to be. The 
 faces of the women especially are leathery 
 and hardened. If it were not for their varie- 
 gated costumes they 
 would appear repul- 
 sive; they take, how- 
 ever, to bright colors, 
 especially i n their 
 sashes and skirts, which 
 last reach only to the 
 knee. From this ana- 
 tomical point downward they are devoid of 
 vesture. For head adornment they gener- 
 ally have a tub, water- jug or bundle. The 
 men wear knee-breeches, also a bright sash, 
 short jacket, and hat with either a slashing 
 broad brim or a high tapering crown — quite 
 after the style of pictured banditti. They 
 always seem to be posing, look as though 
 they rested most of the time and cared for 
 nothing so much as their dolce far niente. 
 [88] 
 
[89] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 No education seems to be provided for these 
 people — we are told that spasmodic attempts 
 are made now and then, but in a style so 
 languid that nothing is accomplished. 
 
 Can we be in Bible land? — for here are 
 carts and oxen, exact cuts of which I have 
 seen in "Smith's Dictionary of the Bible" — 
 the cattle are sleek and all of a fawn color, 
 
 Alderneys, probably, and the carts have 
 wheels, two in number, cut from solid wood. 
 They are used in moving goods around the 
 city, and appear to be the only express 
 wagons Coruna has. 
 
 The houses in the new part of Coruna are 
 not bad looking, though of strange architec- 
 ture, and all built on precisely the same plan. 
 They are several stories high, built of gran- 
 [91] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 ite, with fronts flat and devoid of ornament. 
 No space is left between the houses nor be- 
 tween them and the street — such a thing as 
 a front yard, however small, is unknown. 
 There are no front steps — not even one. 
 With few exceptions the ground floor is 
 utilized for business pur- 
 poses, and is on a level 
 with the street. It is the 
 general custom here to 
 live in flats — a family 
 occupying one floor. The 
 streets, I must mention, 
 are very narrow, made purposely so, I am 
 told, that one side may be always shaded. 
 There are no sidewalks, but the paving is of 
 broad flags, and men, women, donkeys, carts, 
 stages, and now and then a hack, are mingled 
 promiscuously. Beginning at the second or 
 any higher story every house has projecting 
 across the entire front what in the States 
 would be called a conservatory. I may call 
 it a narrow bay window from two to four 
 [92] 
 
[93] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 feet deep, the front of which is all glass. 
 This serves as a balcony at each story, and 
 to keep the house warm in winter and cool 
 in summer. In the older portions of Coruna 
 these are wanting, the houses being much 
 smaller and the streets more narrow. In 
 
 this part of the city everything seems built 
 on a diminutive scale almost ridiculous. It 
 looks as though people living opposite could 
 shake hands across the street, and one can 
 hardly believe that it is a second-story win- 
 dow at which that man is seated whom you 
 might almost touch by leaping as you go by. 
 
 [ 95 ] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 The most aristocratic portion of Coruna 
 is in the vicinity of the residence of the cap- 
 tain-general, and other officials. Here there 
 is a square, one side of which is occupied by 
 the general's residence, which looks more 
 like an arsenal than a private dwelling, and 
 is guarded by sentinels. I see here a num- 
 ber of houses, one or two quite pretentious, 
 occupied exclusively by single families; but 
 the first or ground floor seems to count as 
 nothing, and the doors to the main entrance 
 look like stable doors, marring the appear- 
 ance of the whole building. "Tell me," says 
 the guide, pointing to an average aristo- 
 cratic residence, "what would you think of 
 that house in your country?" "That," I 
 was forced to reply, "I would take to be an 
 old government building about ready to be 
 pulled down." The city is supplied with 
 gas, but has no waterworks. There are sev- 
 eral large fountains, about which are crowded 
 at all times a large number of men and 
 women — professional water carriers — with 
 [96] 
 
r = 
 
CORUNA 
 
 casks and jugs of various sizes, with which 
 they supply daily the residences at a certain 
 price. It seems strange to see the ladies on 
 the streets without bonnets. They all wear 
 hlack veils, pinned somehow to the head, and 
 either pulled across the lower part of the 
 face or thrown back over the shoulder. 
 There are many good-looking ones, and it is 
 said that at Ferrol — a short distance from 
 Coruna — are to be seen the handsomest 
 women in Spain. One never sees a young 
 lady on the street alone; they are invariably 
 accompanied by a maid or relative. 
 
 One American institution is conspicuous 
 by its absence — the bar. There is not one in 
 the whole place, nor a lunch counter. There 
 are several good restaurants, but you have 
 to take your time in getting anything. 
 
 An American is impressed here by the 
 class distinction so clearly drawn and under- 
 stood. Our guide, who is an intelligent 
 Englishman, offers to take us to the Arti- 
 sans' Club, of which he is a member, but says 
 [97] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 he has not access to the other, which is a 
 gentlemen's club — quite unconscious how 
 that would sound in America. 
 
 The theater is one of the chief buildings 
 of the city, but was closed. I was told that 
 it is elegantly furnished and that they have 
 a long season of Italian opera every winter. 
 
 I must not fail to mention the numerous 
 little establishments commissioned by the 
 government for the sale of cigars and to- 
 bacco and postage stamps. These articles 
 can be purchased nowhere else — not even 
 stamps at the postoffice, their sale being 
 monopolized by the State and forming an 
 important source of revenue. 
 
 Every day I enjoy my tramp through this 
 quaint city, always finding something new 
 and always interested, especially in the prin- 
 cipal street, by the diversified appearance of 
 the population — the peasants in bright col- 
 ors with their bundles and jugs, the priests, 
 fat and sleek, and in more characteristic 
 dress than they wear at home — an occasional 
 [98] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 donkey weighted with burdens on each side 
 or dragging a small cart, the senoras and 
 senoritas, dark-haired and dark-eyed, and 
 always in couples, the Spanish gentlemen 
 well dressed and in a style which would not 
 excite attention, the boys and men hawking 
 about tickets for the lottery, which is a State 
 institution and an indirect method of taxa- 
 
 tion, and last, though not least, the Spanish 
 soldiers and officers clad in a hundred dif- 
 ferent styles of uniform, each evidently got- 
 ten up to surpass the other in display of 
 gorgeous colors, elaborate minuteness of 
 cords, tassels and decorations and in outland- 
 ish pattern. 
 
 Having given in the above cursory man- 
 ner the chief characteristics of the place, I 
 [99] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 will simply relate how I passed the time 
 from day to day, during the six days we 
 were there. I might as well explain here 
 that sightseeing was difficult, both through 
 ignorance of the language and because I had 
 no particular companion to go around with. 
 
 The captain was too busy (writing letters) 
 to go ashore. The first lieutenant would 
 scorn to feel an interest where the captain 
 didn't; the second lieutenant seemed really 
 indifferent, and I verily believe that in the 
 minds of these officers the chief attractive 
 fact concerning the place was that it is only 
 2,700 miles from New Bedford instead of 
 [100] 
 
A Street in (' 
 
CGRUNA 
 
 2,701. The third lieutenant had planned 
 several trips with me, but he was unfortu- 
 nately taken ill with malarial fever, so ;hat 
 while part of my going was with the officers, 
 
 much of it was with the cadets and part with 
 the guide alone. 
 
 July 12, Tuesday. The first breakfast 
 after twenty-eight days of sea-rations, with 
 its fresh meat, vegetables and fruit, was like 
 a bucket of water poured into the mouth of 
 Tantalus, and put me in good condition for 
 going ashore at ten o'clock in company with 
 Lieutenant Ross and half a dozen cadets. 
 [101] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 We proceeded at once to the office of the 
 American Consul, Senor A. Garcia Fuertes, 
 a thorough Spanish gentleman of about 
 fifty, who received us cordially. Through 
 him received a short letter from home. On 
 inquiry I found that it takes three or four 
 days to go to Bordeaux, and a day and a 
 half to Madrid, and as this would leave too 
 short a time in either city I am obliged re- 
 luctantly to give up both schemes. The con- 
 sul proposes to call on the captain at 2.30 
 p.m.^ and in the meantime an Englishman, 
 who has the contract to furnish us with fresh 
 provisions, insists so kindly on showing Mr. 
 Ross and myself to different places that we 
 let him take us around and soon found it 
 would be impossible to get along without him. 
 We visit the market, which is open all day 
 and is a good one, the pottery, glove, and 
 other stores, and wind up at the Cafe Suizo. 
 In the shops we notice that many goods are 
 French and English, and in two of them 
 the rosy face and raven locks of the ad- 
 [102] 
 
[103] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 vertisement of an American hair restorative 
 beam from the wall. We return aboard 
 early in the afternoon and enjoy the Span- 
 ish amusement of taking a rest — for there is 
 great pleasure in simply keeping still after 
 
 such constant pitching and rolling on the 
 ocean. 
 
 July 13, Wednesday. Was occupied 
 
 until eleven writing reports, etc., then went 
 
 ashore by myself and fell in with a party of 
 
 cadets and interpreter, whom I joined in 
 
 [105] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 sightseeing until dinner time. With Mr. 
 Kimball and Mr. Kennedy dined at the Ho- 
 tel Universal. The Spanish, however, call 
 this meal breakfast (from eleven to two) 
 and have their dinner at five or six, taking 
 in the morning only a cup of coffee. But 
 this breakfast was a good dinner neverthe- 
 less, served in regular courses, eight or ten 
 in number, in good style. The cooking and 
 attendance are excellent, and there is no 
 place in either Cincinnati or St. Louis where 
 
 one can obtain as 
 
 good a table d'hote 
 
 *''£?_ dinner. After dinner 
 
 '"-ifettcrfrKt an d after visiting sev- 
 j eral stores I left the 
 cadets and went to 
 the consul's office to 
 write letters, Sub- 
 sequently met the 
 first and second lieutenants, with whom I 
 had a bottle of claret in the cafe. At about 
 five o'clock, according to agreement, I met 
 [ 106 ] 
 
Church of San Jorge, Corum 
 
CORUNA 
 
 a party of cadets for a donkey ride. The 
 guide went with us to engage our donkeys 
 and to see that we were not cheated. We 
 got them for twenty cents apiece for the 
 round trip, which charge we found included 
 the attendance on foot of a man and two 
 boys. There were seven of us, Moore, Lowe, 
 Kennedy, Cantwell, West, Ewing and my- 
 self, and each choosing what he thought to 
 be the best donkey, we started, followed by 
 our three attendants, who trotted along on 
 foot, alternately punching up the brutes, 
 picking up the ends of cigars, begging for 
 coin, and jabbering Spanish all the time. 
 The undignified position of being mounted 
 on a donkey soon seemed perfectly natural, 
 and we jogged along at a surprisingly good 
 rate. The road was macadamized, smooth 
 and good, and our course was toward the 
 hills to the east of the harbor. We passed 
 over several fine stone causeways, with broad 
 low walls which appeared to be used by the 
 peasant pedestrians for their dolce far 
 [107] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 niente. On one a peasant lay sound asleep, 
 stretched full length upon his stomach, with 
 arms extended. As we galloped by, the 
 temptation was too much for Lowe, who 
 rode up alongside, and in one time and three 
 motions grabbed him by the seat of the 
 breeches, lifted him from the wall, and 
 dropped him in the road, then hurried on, 
 and the language that was hurled after us 
 did not require interpreting. Shortly after 
 we were greeted by a shower of stones from 
 some peasants in a field, so that this give- 
 and-take business would appear not unusual. 
 We passed a number of old fortifications, 
 whose age we could only guess at, and turned 
 several times to take in the fine view as we 
 gradually got higher. We passed a green 
 field, through which ran a brook, and in the 
 middle of it stood a number of women wash- 
 ing clothes, who, by their shouts and waving 
 of various pieces, suggested that it was our 
 own laundering they were doing. This is 
 the manner of the country — they take the 
 [108] 
 
vJKiTu 
 
 [100] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 clothes to these small streams and pound 
 them against the stones, and when you get 
 them haek you see how it was done. We 
 rode about four miles, stopped at a little 
 Spanish restaurant and tried their native 
 wine, and on the return had a bird's-eye view 
 
 of the bay and our own little bark riding at 
 anchor — looking so small that it seemed al- 
 most an act of temerity to have crossed the 
 ocean in it. Took supper at the hotel and 
 returned aboard at nine o'clock. 
 
 July 14, Thursday. At ten o'clock went 
 ashore with Lieutenant Ross, a number of 
 cadets and the interpreter, Mr. Hyde. After 
 [111] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 a call at the consulate, Mr. Ross and myself 
 took the guide with us to purchase curios. 
 We could find very few articles which were 
 
 Qnot of foreign manufac- 
 ture. We had dinner at 
 the Fonda de Inocencio, 
 where Mr. Ross became ill 
 and was obliged to take a 
 room, which was small, 
 p o o r 1 y furnished and 
 kept. I had expected 
 to take the afternoon 
 steamer with some 
 cadets to visit and stay 
 over night at Ferrol, 
 a large naval station, 
 but on account of 
 the lieutenant's sickness, 
 concluded not to go, and at supper time re- 
 turned aboard the Chase, where we found 
 that the captain had been busy all day receiv- 
 ing distinguished visitors — the military and 
 civil officers of the province and city — who 
 [112] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 were introduced by our worthy consul. We 
 are told that the visit of the captain-general 
 of the province to an officer of less rank than 
 a commodore is quite unprecedented, and 
 that this is a special mark of pleasure in 
 receiving the Chase and her distinguished 
 and gentlemanly officers in the port of 
 Coruna. Our consul knows how to do 
 things up to the handle and is a good fellow, 
 but he's shrewd and is evidently making a 
 little capital out of us, and these flattering 
 sentiments are accepted for about what they 
 are worth. We have no doubt that he has also 
 impressed it fully on the minds of the Span- 
 ish dons that it is a great honor which the 
 American government has bestowed by send- 
 ing its cadet ship into the port of Coruna, 
 and as in all our intercourse he is the only 
 one present who understands both lan- 
 guages, he can spread it thick on both sides 
 with facility and perfect safety. 
 
 I have now seen a good deal of Coruna, 
 but have not as yet met any of its people 
 '[113] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 socially nor been within a private residence. 
 This seems rather slow, and I begin to re- 
 volve plans for seeing something of indoor 
 life and possibly to meet some of the hand- 
 some senoritas of whom we have caught 
 glimpses on the street. The consul said 
 something about calling at his house as well 
 as office, but I have failed to see him during 
 the last two days to make an engagement. 
 After supper, however, while walking aim- 
 lessly around with a couple of cadets, I pro- 
 pose we call at his residence and see if we 
 cannot hunt up something more exciting. 
 We accordingly summon up resolution and 
 go, but are unfortunate in finding that he 
 and his family are all on the Alamada. We 
 leave our cards, however, and are rewarded 
 the next day in a manner shortly to be de- 
 scribed. We then ourselves visit the Ala- 
 mada, which consists of a very broad prom- 
 enade along the end of the harbor, provided 
 with shade trees and having at one end the 
 public garden. A grandstand is erected at 
 [114] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 the center, and the government band fur- 
 nishes music Thursday and Sunday eve- 
 nings. All Coruna is here, and it is a good 
 opportunity for seeing the people. With 
 usual regard for class distinctions, one side 
 of the Alamada is occupied exclusively by 
 
 the working people, though no rule compels 
 it. Most of the promenaders are ladies — the 
 unmarried ones being invariably accompa- 
 nied by their elders, nor does it seem the 
 custom for them to be attended by young 
 gentlemen. The conduct of the young 
 ladies, whether from modesty, training, or 
 the ever- watch ful eye of the mother, is 
 
 [ "5 ] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 proper in the highest degree — not a smile 
 nor even a look could be gotten from them, 
 though several honest efforts were made by 
 the gentleman from "la guerre la S. P. 
 Chase/' Most of the men occupy the chairs 
 which line the promenade, chatting in 
 groups and smoking the everlasting ciga- 
 rette. Every one smokes, but chewing seems 
 to be an unknown accomplishment and ex- 
 cites the wonder of the gamins, who follow 
 the strangers with undisguised curiosity and 
 beg for pieces of American plug, with which 
 they are freely supplied by the generous 
 cadets and shown how — that there may be no 
 mistake in the effect. 
 
 July 15, Friday. Went ashore at ten, 
 and was met at the pier by the consul's clerk, 
 who requested me to stop at the office, where 
 the consul was waiting to invite me to din- 
 ner. I was requested to convey the same 
 invitation to the captain, and request the 
 cadets to call in at coffee in the afternoon. 
 [116] 
 
,r 
 
 -^ 
 
 [117] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 That was a neat acknowledgment of our call 
 last evening-. 
 
 At one o'clock the captain and myself, in 
 full dress uniform, are ready for the consul's 
 dinner, and the "gig" is at the side ready to 
 carry us. 
 
 The captain's gig is something like a state 
 carriage, and when it is called there is a very 
 pretty show on hand. Twelve able seamen 
 and a coxswain, all in natty white uniforms, 
 bring the thirty-foot finely-built open boat 
 to the gangway or side ladder. The beauti- 
 ful ensign floats from the staff in the stern, 
 and everything about the boat is as clean and 
 bright as labor can make it. 
 
 The crew are in their seats with oars 
 shipped, and the boat fended off from the 
 ship's side by boat-hooks in the hands of the 
 stroke and bow oarsmen. The captain ap- 
 pears at the gangway, accompanied by the 
 officer of the deck and those who are going 
 with him. Juniors in rank or official impor- 
 [119] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 tance must enter the boat first, the captain 
 last. 
 
 When all are seated, the order is given 
 "Shove off forward!" and the man in the 
 bow shoves off, stows his boat-hook, and lays 
 his hand upon his oar. "Up oars!" is the 
 next order, and the twelve oars are raised to 
 the perpendicular, giving the effect of "Pre- 
 sent arms !" in military drill. "Let fall !" and 
 with precision down come the oars in unison 
 into the water. "Give way!" is the next 
 order, and all are pulling for the shore. 
 
 As the landing is approached, "In bowl" 
 is the command, and the man at the bow 
 rises, with boat-hook in hand, to sheer off 
 or pull in, as the case may be. The order 
 "Way enough!" quickly follows, and the 
 oars are raised simultaneously to a vertical 
 position, then laid in the boat, the blades 
 pointing forward, while the boat slides along 
 by its own momentum, skilfully steered by 
 the coxswain up to the landing. 
 
 Now, who gets out first? The captain. 
 [120] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 But on the return to the boat the junior 
 must enter it first. The junior always gets 
 into a small boat first and gets out of it last. 
 We are met at the landing by the consul, 
 who escorts us to his house, from the front 
 of which he has the eagle and national colors 
 displayed. I say house by courtesy, for he 
 occupies but one floor, as is the custom even 
 with people of means. We are ushered into 
 a large parlor, carpeted with what appears 
 to be an American tapestry, and whose fur- 
 niture is covered with a bright yellow 
 damask, the curtains also being yellow to 
 match. There is little ornamentation, and 
 this is the only carpet we see in the house. 
 He has to meet us Seiior Laureano Ma 
 Munoz, an elderly gentleman, formerly Sec- 
 retary of State and at present a supreme 
 judge of the province, and worth a round 
 million. We engage him in conversation as 
 well as we can, the consul being interpreter 
 and the subjects being chiefly the national 
 characteristics and political methods of both 
 [121] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 countries. Cigars are passed, then a sanga- 
 ree, and in about an hour the ladies are pre- 
 sented, and we go at once to dinner. The 
 captain is placed at the consul's right and 
 I at the right of Mrs. Fuertes at the other 
 end of the table. 
 
 Of the dinner, it need only be said that 
 it was excellent in every respect — the courses 
 were too numerous to mention, and some of 
 the dishes I had never seen before. We had 
 wine of several kinds, including champagne. 
 The table service and linen were very fine, 
 and the two waiters performed their duties 
 as though used to them. 
 
 We numbered nine at the table, four of 
 whom were young ladies. The only one 
 present who could understand both lan- 
 guages was the consul, who proved to be a 
 very able host and kept things going with 
 much tact. The situation was novel. I had 
 three young ladies directly opposite me and 
 one to my right, and they kept up a very 
 lively conversation, sometimes addressing 
 [122] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 me, sometimes each other, and frequently 
 calling upon the consul to interpret what 
 they had said. Their remarks, too, were 
 quite witty and apropos, and I soon found 
 myself wishing that I had studied just a 
 little Spanish hefore starting on the cruise. 
 Finally, after tiring the consul as much as 
 we dared and heing in desperate straits, we 
 found some amusement in giving mutual 
 instruction. By pointing to table objects 
 and giving the English I would receive the 
 Spanish name in return, and our knowledge 
 soon was extended to phrases such as "Can 
 I help you?" "Thank you, no," and "Thank 
 you, yes/' in rehearsing of which a good deal 
 of time was consumed. Many laughable 
 errors were committed on both sides. One 
 of the ladies had acquired one or two English 
 terms during a residence in Cuba, and made 
 brave attempts to converse. Seeing me 
 notice Mrs. Fuertes' little girl and trying to 
 convey the idea that I seemed fond of chil- 
 dren, she, with much difficulty, got out: 
 [123] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 "You — docktore — do kiss all ze leetle girls," 
 which seemed a hit at the politic methods of 
 the profession and raised a laugh. The cap- 
 tain then asked her up to what age she 
 thought the doctor might be allowed to carry 
 this practice, to which, meaning eight, she 
 
 replied eighteen, which was near enough her 
 own age to give point to the mistake. 
 
 After dinner the cadets called, and we ad- 
 journed to the parlor, where a fresh table was 
 already spread and covered with ornamented 
 pastry, sugared fruits, etc., and where we 
 were made to sit again and partake of coffee, 
 confections and wine. Later we left the 
 [124] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 three elderly men to their cigars and ad- 
 journed to the room containing the piano, 
 where, with only Mrs. Fuertes as chaperon, 
 and no one understanding both languages, 
 the impudence of American cadets was at 
 once manifested. With perfectly straight 
 faces they began their open comments: "I 
 bid for the one on the sofa," "Well, I'll take 
 the one near the window," "This one at the 
 piano is a daisy," "How old do you think 
 she is?" etc., the objects of these remarks 
 receiving them with pleasant smiles and 
 keeping up a running talk with each other, 
 which may have been equally personal if not 
 so complimentary. They played for us, and 
 we, in turn, sang some choruses. We tried 
 dancing, too, but the Spanish style is so dif- 
 ferent from our own that we were obliged to 
 give it up. On expressing, as well as we 
 could, our regret, three of them, to music 
 by a fourth, performed a special dance for 
 our benefit, a kind of Spanish fandango, 
 which was beautiful, and more graceful in 
 [125] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 execution than any dance I have ever seen. 
 We bade them adieu at eight o'clock, prom- 
 ising to call, and much pleased with our aft- 
 ernoon amusement. 
 
 July 16, Saturday. In the forenoon, 
 visited the government tobacco factory in 
 company with the captain, first and third 
 lieutenants, and our guide, Mr. Hyde. The 
 tobacco used all comes from the United 
 States. There are 4,000 women employed 
 here (in one building) making cigars and 
 cigarettes. They are a hard-looking set, and 
 among the whole 4,000 I saw but one or two 
 attractive faces. In revolutionary times, it 
 is said, the government fears these women 
 more than any other class. Their average 
 pay is fifteen cents a day — and most of them 
 walk a distance of six miles to get to their 
 work, and I am credibly informed that a 
 number walk as far as eighteen miles and 
 back every day, and that their pay is less be- 
 cause they cannot perform a whole day's 
 [126] 
 
[127] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 work. The cigars made are mostly of a very 
 inferior grade. 
 
 On returning to the Chase we received a 
 call from the civil governor of the province, 
 who seemed a gentleman of much intelli- 
 gence. In the afternoon we made our party 
 call at the consul's and found that it 
 amounted to another reception. The consul 
 has certainly exerted himself for our enter- 
 tainment. I leave the cadets there and am 
 attracted by music, loud explosion of rock- 
 ets, and a crowd of people, and, chancing to 
 meet the consul's clerk, am told that it is a 
 religious procession, and we wait in the main 
 street to see it pass. I cannot do it justice 
 from memory nor convey the remarkahle im- 
 pression it made on me — its evident purpose 
 being to impress the common people. First 
 came a drummer and a man playing a sort 
 of bagpipe, said to be the national instru- 
 ment of the country people. Following were 
 a few rotund priests in sacerdotal robes, and 
 then a line of boys and girls on each side of 
 [129] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 the street, and between them a very old priest 
 and attendants bearing a banner. Then 
 came a line of women on each side of the 
 narrow street, bearing lighted candles in 
 their hands. Next were four cavalrymen, 
 followed by a very large and loud brass 
 band, a few more priests, and then the fea- 
 ture of the procession — a painted, life-size 
 statue of the Virgin Mary in a standing 
 posture made of wood, fixed upon a plat- 
 form and borne on the shoulders of six men. 
 Everybody uncovered as it went by, and a 
 company of infantry brought up the rear. 
 Rockets were fired during the whole time 
 the procession was moving, and as it filed 
 into St. Jorges Church, from which it start- 
 ed, a perfect fusilade of all sorts of noisy 
 fireworks was kept up from an adjacent hill. 
 I am told that processions are very frequent, 
 those of this class being given four or five 
 times a month and grander ones less often. 
 This over, I wandered around the older 
 portions of Coruna by myself and came 
 [130] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 across the small cemetery in which Sir John 
 Moore is buried. There is simply a large 
 oblong tombstone, surrounded by an iron 
 fence and bearing the following inscrip- 
 tion — 
 
 Joannes Moore, 
 
 EiVercitns Britannici Dux, 
 
 Prcelio Occisus, 
 
 A.D. 1809. 
 
 As I gazed upon this inscription, there 
 came to my mind the poem so popular as a 
 declamation in schoolboy days, written by 
 the Rev. Charles Wolfe: 
 
 THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE 
 
 Not a drum was heard, nor a funeral note, 
 As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; 
 
 Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot 
 O'er the grave where our hero we buried. 
 [ 131 ] 
 
CORUNA 
 II 
 
 We buried him darkly at dead of night, 
 The sod with our bayonets turning; 
 
 By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, 
 And the lantern dimly burning. 
 
 Ill 
 
 No useless coffin enclosed his breast, 
 
 Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; 
 
 But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, 
 With his martial cloak around him. 
 
 IV 
 
 Few and short were the prayers we said, 
 And we spoke not a word of sorrow ; 
 
 But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead, 
 And we bitterly thought of the morrow. 
 
 We thought, as we hollow'd his narrow bed, 
 
 And smooth'd down his lonely pillow, 
 That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his 
 head, 
 And we far away on the billow ! 
 [132] 
 
Burial Place of Sir John Moore, Coruna 
 
CORUNA 
 
 VI 
 
 Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, 
 And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him, — 
 
 But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on 
 In the grave where a Briton has laid him. 
 
 VII 
 
 But half of our heavy task was done, 
 
 When the clock struck the hour for retiring ; 
 
 And we heard the distant and random gun 
 That the foe was sullenly firing. 
 
 VIII 
 
 Slowly and sadly we laid him down, 
 
 From the field of his fame fresh and gory ; 
 
 We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone — 
 But we left him alone with his glory ! 
 
 Here lay the inspiration of this poem, and 
 here was the rampart to which he was hur- 
 ried at "dead of night." 
 
 The grave "where our hero we buried" 
 is beautifully located near the edge of a 
 [133] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 bluff overlooking a broad expanse of ocean 
 stretching away toward England, his home. 
 The iron fence seems typical of the fate that 
 at the last moment barred him from the 
 ships that were to take him and his command 
 to his native land, where future usefulness 
 and honor awaited him. The expedition 
 sailed away, leaving him "alone with his 
 glory." It was his master mind, his genius, 
 that had led them successfully through the 
 dangers of a retreat before an overpowering 
 force to the point of embarkation and en- 
 abled them to leave in safety by inflicting at 
 the last moment a decisive defeat upon the 
 enemy, who had hoped to rush them into the 
 sea or cause their surrender. Sir John 
 Moore was killed, but not until he knew of 
 his victory. 
 
 A cursory review of this, his last, cam- 
 paign may be of interest. 
 
 The British forces had caused the French 
 to leave Portugal, and that country was now 
 restored to independence. It then became 
 [134] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 the British determination to aid the Span- 
 iards in their contest with France. Napo- 
 leon had deposed the Spanish king, and 
 placed his own brother, Joseph, on the Span- 
 ish throne, supported by 110,000 French 
 troops. The Spaniards rose against him. 
 
 Napoleon poured in fresh troops, who, at 
 last, were successful against the Spanish, but 
 were afterward themselves signally defeat- 
 ed. One French army to the number of 18,- 
 000 laid down their arms on condition that 
 they should be sent by sea to France. These 
 terms enraged the populace of Spain, and 
 eighty of the French officers, on their return 
 [135] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 toward Cadiz, were massacred by a mob. 
 King Joseph hastily abandoned Madrid and 
 joined the French forces on the Ebro. 
 
 Spain was, however in a disorganized 
 condition and failed to continue her effective 
 warfare, and, moreover, misled the English 
 both as to the strength of her own armies 
 and that of the enemy. For a time there was 
 no central military authority, the Spanish 
 armies being under the control of provincial 
 juntas and lacking coordination. Therefore 
 the support which Moore had confidently 
 expected from the Spanish throughout this 
 campaign amounted to little or nothing. 
 
 October 6, 1808, Sir John was placed in 
 command of the British army that had been 
 landed in Portugal to be employed in the 
 north of Spain "to cooperate with the Span- 
 ish armies in the expulsion of the French 
 from the kingdom." In the meantime Na- 
 poleon had resolved to lead his army in per- 
 son, and by October had gathered into Spain 
 [136] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 troops numbering 318,000 men, later in- 
 creased to 335,000. 
 
 Sir John Moore's army consisted of 20,- 
 000 men, and he was informed 10,000 addi- 
 tional were about to sail for Coruna. These 
 joined him, after much difficulty, at Sala- 
 manca. Five days after his appointment, 
 Moore began his march from Lisbon, and 
 
 on November 11 crossed the border into 
 Spain. He arrived at Salamanca Novem- 
 ber 13, and vainly looked for the coopera- 
 tion of the Spanish army. There was no 
 Spanish army to cooperate with. 
 
 Napoleon, in the meantime, had over- 
 thrown the Spanish arms in the north and 
 was marching against Madrid. Tidings to 
 this effect did not reach Moore until Novem- 
 [137] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 ber 28, and he was deceived as to the true 
 state of affairs. On December 4 Napoleon 
 took possession of Madrid, and litttle re- 
 mained to complete the conquest of Spain 
 but the destruction of the British army. He 
 endeavored to entice Sir John Moore to- 
 ward Madrid, where he could be readily sur- 
 rounded. By artifices and agents who were 
 his ready tools, he even caused Moore to 
 believe that Madrid was still in the posses- 
 sion of the Spanish. 
 
 But Moore was not to be trapped. He de- 
 termined to advance northerly and attack 
 the French forces which kept open the com- 
 munication between France and Madrid, 
 with a view to forcing Napoleon to abandon 
 operations against southern Spain, thus giv- 
 ing the southern provinces an opportunity to 
 rise and organize. 
 
 Moore left Salamanca December 13 with 
 
 about 22,000 men, some of his forces being 
 
 still on the march from Portugal, and others 
 
 located at Lugo and Astorga. He fought 
 
 [138] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 the French and won a battle at Sahagun. 
 Through a captured letter he had learned 
 that the French believed he was in retreat to 
 Lisbon, and that the advance-guard of the 
 French army was en route south to Badajos 
 to cut him off, while Marshal Soult in the 
 north had been directed to move southerly 
 to Leon and Zamora. 
 
 After the victory at Sahagun, Moore was 
 about to attack Soult, when he further 
 learned that the enemy's army at Madrid 
 was moving in his direction, and knew there- 
 by that Napoleon had abandoned his inva- 
 sion of the south of Spain and would try to 
 intercept his communication with Portugal 
 and the sea coast. He therefore began im- 
 mediately his retreat toward Coruna. Na- 
 poleon himself attempted to intercept him at 
 Astorga, and arrived at that point January 
 1 with 80,000 men and 200 pieces of artillery, 
 but Moore had left Astorga the previous 
 day, December 31. 
 
 Napoleon at this point, whether he saw a 
 [139] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 losing game, or really felt, as he gave out, 
 that his presence was necessary in Paris on 
 account of the alliance forming against him 
 by Russia and Austria, suddenly returned 
 to Paris, many of his forces were withdrawn 
 to the Rhine, and the pursuit of Moore was 
 left to Marshal Soult with 25,000 men and 
 10,000 more at Astorga as reinforcements. 
 
 For the succeeding ten days Moore con- 
 ducted a masterly retreat, beating off the 
 French from time to time, and arrived with 
 his command at Coruna January 11. No 
 transports were in sight, but they arrived on 
 the evening of the 14th. The intervening 
 days were occupied by arranging his plans 
 for the battle which was inevitable, resting 
 his troops, and furnishing them with new 
 arms and fresh ammunition obtained at 
 Coruna. 
 
 On the 16th preparations were completed 
 for embarking all the troops that evening, 
 with the expectation that all would be on 
 board by the following morning. 
 [ 140 ] 
 
[141] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 The dismounted cavalry had already been 
 embarked, and the effective force of infantry 
 amounted to less than 15,000. The army 
 had been reduced by the killed and wounded 
 in the numerous engagements, bj^ sickness 
 (particularly the typhus fev r er), by strag- 
 gling, and by detachment of a force sent to 
 Vigo. 
 
 The French under Soult numbered 20,- 
 000 and began the attack early in the after- 
 noon of the 16th. A fierce battle ensued, 
 Moore commanding his troops in person, 
 accompanying one regiment of Highlanders 
 in a desperate charge, and by his clear ap- 
 preciation and prompt action in eacli emer- 
 gency proving himself master of the situa- 
 tion. In the moment of victory he was 
 struck by a cannon ball in the left shoulder 
 and chest, and died shortly afterward while 
 being carried from the field at the close of 
 the day, but not until he knew that the 
 French were beaten. 
 
 Sir John Moore is one of England's great 
 [143] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 characters. He died at the age of forty- 
 seven. Had he lived longer, he would un- 
 doubtedly have added to his fame. He was 
 a brilliant general. He outwitted Napoleon 
 and defeated one of his marshals in pitched 
 battle. But he was more than a general. 
 He was a man of great personal dignity 
 and honor, and a true patriot. 
 
 He early desired a military life and was 
 trained for it. His prevailing sentiment is 
 perhaps expressed in the following extract 
 from one of his letters: 
 
 "Whenever by promoting the public 
 weal distinction is aimed at, ease must be 
 relinquished, toil embraced, and anxiety 
 endured." 
 
 July 17, Sunday. By invitation, the 
 consul, with a party of ladies and gentle- 
 men, come aboard at eleven o'clock. We 
 had met most of them on the two previous 
 days, and feel the advantage of acquain- 
 tance, but also the difficulty of scraping up 
 fresh conversation — for our short phrases 
 [ 144] 
 
Sin John- Moore 
 
CORUNA 
 
 have grown rather stale. They are all 
 pretty, stylish and accomplished. We had 
 learned that most of them were quite 
 wealthy. We entertain them hy our regu- 
 lar Sunday muster and inspection, a lunch, 
 a look through the ship, feats of magic by 
 our third lieutenant, who is an adept, sing- 
 ing, and such conversation as we can carry 
 on by the occasional aid of the consul. At 
 four o'clock they return ashore, and obtain- 
 ing the company of a young Spanish gen- 
 tleman and an interpreter, I paid a visit to 
 the two hospitals here, the civil and the 
 military. The latter is a very fair in- 
 stitution and is located in the barracks, 
 where my uniform secured very polite atten- 
 tion from the medical director and post sur- 
 geon. I got but one new idea by both visits, 
 and will reserve a description for a special 
 paper. 
 
 I was afterward taken to the Nobs Club- 
 house, which is more American-like than 
 anything I have seen here. In one room the 
 [145] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 expenditure was said to have been $16,000, 
 which I was candidly assured to be the truth, 
 and in explanation had my attention directed 
 to the elegant oil paintings upon the ceiling, 
 upon which most of the expenditure was 
 made. They were masterpieces executed in 
 Barcelona. The furniture, upholstery, etc., 
 of this room was very rich. They have, be- 
 sides, a reception-room, billiard tables, elec- 
 tric bells, restaurant, and a regular room for 
 heavy gambling. At seven o'clock we meet 
 our Spanish friends on the Alamada and 
 enjoy as much as we can their society for 
 the last time — for to-morrow we sail. We 
 promenade up and down the long walk, once 
 in a while catching a mutual idea, laughing 
 and exchanging remarks, ours in English 
 and theirs in Spanish, indifferent that their 
 meaning could only be surmised. But this 
 unusual kind of conversation could not long 
 be maintained, so finally, with interchange 
 of cards and complimentary sentiments, we 
 [ 146] 
 
[147] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 bid them good-night and go aboard for the 
 last time at Coruna. 
 
 At eleven o'clock, while writing a letter, I 
 am interrupted by a serenade. Three boats, 
 containing ladies and gentlemen (members 
 of the glee club we afterward learned), are 
 rowed slowly around our bark just as the 
 moon in her last quarter is rising above the 
 old Spanish castle on the little island at 
 the head of the bay. The time is well chosen 
 and the music is quaint and characteristic. 
 They come almost within oar's length, one 
 person playing the guitar and another sing- 
 ing a plaintive melody, in which we can 
 make out "Fair Amerika" and one or two 
 other terms which show that it is quite com- 
 plimentary. Then follows the finest guitar 
 playing I ever heard, afterward a duet and 
 a chorus, all in excellent taste. 
 
 The first lieutenant, who is on watch, does 
 
 not know what to do, as the captain is very 
 
 tired, takes little stock in anything of the 
 
 kind and would be angry if awakened. Be- 
 
 [ 149] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 sides, visitors have been crowding the ship 
 all day long — so to express our appreciation 
 and to apologize for not inviting them on 
 board, the lieutenant sends for our little 
 yellow-faced Portuguese steward, who 
 speaks Spanish, and directs him what to 
 say. But the utilization of Joe is, socially 
 speaking, a mistake. Joe, it seems, is a con- 
 noisseur of stringed instruments. His re- 
 marks seem rather long and appear to call 
 forth responses from the boat, in which we 
 can distinguish "reals" and "duros." "Did 
 you tell him what I told you?" asks the lieu- 
 tenant. "Yes, sir," replies Joe. "Well, 
 what are you talking so long about?" "Oh, 
 I'm asking him how much will he take for 
 his guitar." "You go below d — n quick!" 
 shouts the irritated officer. 
 
 July 18, Monday. We sail to-day for 
 Fayal in the Western Islands, about 1,000 
 miles distant, and hope to make the run in 
 from seven to ten days. The consul sends 
 his regrets and adieus aboard by the first 
 [150] 
 
[151] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 lieutenant, who says he had tears in his eyes 
 and seemed genuinely affected at parting 
 He has enjoyed our company, but what 
 would Coruna have been to us without him? 
 The captain says he has been more attentive 
 than any consul he has met in all his travels. 
 
 We are towed out of the harbor by a small 
 English wrecking steamer, and as we pass 
 outward we can, with glasses, see the con- 
 sul's house and ladies waving handkerchiefs 
 from the windows. We wave in return and 
 dip our ensign, and thus bid them a final 
 good-by. 
 
 But in gazing at the windows we have all 
 failed to observe a small boat that has shot 
 out from the shore with the evident inten- 
 tion of intercepting us. We are fast leaving 
 it astern when a man is seen to rise and wave 
 his hand earnestly. There is a packet in his 
 hand; something important evidently. The 
 captain gives orders for the steamer to go 
 slowly, and presently we are drifting at a 
 snail's pace, while the boat approaches. 
 [153] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 It is a graceful little boat, holding two 
 men. The one who has the official-looking 
 package in his hand sits in the stern and 
 hastens the labor of the other, a sturdy oars- 
 man, who, with graceful stroke, brings his 
 boat alongside. Everybody collects at the 
 
 port gangway to see the meaning of this 
 event — including the captain, ready to re- 
 ceive in proper form this envoy extraordi- 
 nary. The gentlemanly personage proves 
 to be an attache of the consulate, and as his 
 little boat slides alongside at the gangway 
 he rises, and with a courtly elevation of his 
 [154] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 hat and a distinguished salute, holds the par- 
 cel aloft and calls for "Senor West!" 
 
 Amid a buzz of surprise, "Senor" West 
 steps forward and takes the packet. The 
 captain, as though suspecting its nature, 
 demands that Senor West open the packet 
 then and there, and poor West, himself full 
 of curiosity, loses no time in doing so and 
 finds within a beautiful photograph, cabinet 
 size, of one of the seiioritas we had met. 
 
 It would be difficult to paint the conflict- 
 ing emotions which chased themselves over 
 West's countenance as he listened to the 
 tones of anger and disgust in which the cap- 
 tain stormed at "being stopped for a photo- 
 graph," to the unmerciful deviling of his 
 fellow cadets, and then gazed upon his beau- 
 tiful photograph and realized the success of 
 his "mash" and that he had the proud dis- 
 tinction of being the only one to bring away 
 a photograph. No wonder that in the ex- 
 citement of the moment he listened to the 
 seductive advice of Hall and hurried below 
 [155] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 to write an acknowledgment. But how 
 should he write? Not in English, for she 
 would then be forced to have it translated. 
 "Here, Hall," he says, "you write a little 
 French, and she understands it. Just write 
 a pleasant acknowledgment." To which the 
 complaisant and somewhat jealous Hall 
 readily assented, and thereupon sat down 
 and filled a sheet with the most extravagant 
 expressions of affection, fully committing his 
 brother cadet and laying the foundation for 
 a breach of promise case if West ever goes 
 back to Coruna. The letter is hurriedly 
 sealed and given to the courteous messen- 
 ger, who, with repeated gestures of friend- 
 ship, drifts away in his boat. 
 
 But never mind their chaffing, West ; they 
 cannot take from you your distinguished 
 honor, nor rob you of the reflection that 
 never was a photograph more elegantly be- 
 stowed — never one received under more pic- 
 turesque circumstances. 
 [156] 
 
CORUNA 
 
 Soon we are again upon the ocean with 
 all sails set and bound this time in the direc- 
 tion of home. 
 
 [157] 
 
CORUNA TO FAYAL 
 
From Coruna to Fayal in a straight line 
 is 1,000 miles, and we hoped to make that 
 distance in about one week, but on account 
 of light winds were out fifteen days. As 
 we left Coruna that Monday forenoon, 
 July 1 8, after our welcome rest on shore and 
 with our bark headed toward home, I could 
 but contrast the general feeling and appear- 
 ance of those on board with their appearance 
 on leaving New Bedford. Then it was rain- 
 ing and foggy; to-day it is beautifully clear. 
 Then we were not hardened to the sea; now 
 we feel like old salts. The whole cruise was 
 then before us; it is now half over, and as 
 the captain expressed it, every ship's length 
 we sail is that much nearer home. Unfortu- 
 nately, again I am at variance with the gen- 
 eral feeling, for, as the beautiful harbor, 
 strange city and interesting sights fade 
 [161] 
 
CORUNA TO FAYAL 
 
 from view I experience the deepest regret at 
 being obliged to go without seeing more of 
 the Old World. But now that we are leav- 
 ing, everybody seems in such good humor 
 that I cast aside my own regret, and enter 
 into the spirit of the occasion. Besides, it's 
 
 quite refreshing, as well as amusing, to note 
 the different tone in the comments on the 
 quarterdeck. "Not such a bad place after 
 all," says the now complaisant captain. 
 "No," dutifully echoes the first lieutenant; 
 "the city looks fine, and I never saw such a 
 [ 162 ] 
 
CORUNA TO FAYAL 
 
 beautiful harbor anywhere." "Nor I," said 
 the captain; and that consul is the best one 
 I ever met in all my travels." 
 
 "Well," turning to the second lieutenant, 
 "I can feel them pulling at the other end of 
 the line," and he gazes toward the west with 
 a look which plainly says, "I am coming, my 
 dear." 
 
 I wish I could faithfully present the men- 
 tal photograph made by the scene that morn- 
 ing. Our trim bark, as clean and polished 
 as a new pin, with all her white sails spread, 
 plowing the blue water at moderate speed; 
 the walled city with its castles and fortresses 
 fading to the rear, with a background of 
 hills, dark and stony, or clad with green and 
 yellow verdure; the ocean rippled by the 
 light breeze and dotted here and there with 
 a steamer, ship or felucca; and all lighted 
 up by a bright sunshine of that peculiar 
 quality which both warms and exhilarates. 
 T know that often, while confined within 
 some dusty city, this fresh, bright scene will 
 [163] 
 
CORUNA TO FAYAL 
 
 come to mind, and by its very memory please 
 as though it hung in oil and canvas on the 
 wall. 
 
 But the reverse of this picture came that 
 night in the shape of gales of wind and a 
 very heavy sea. The bark pitched, rolled 
 and twisted unmercifully, and the waves 
 dashed over the deck with more force than at 
 any other time during the cruise. A large 
 wave broke into the wind-sail connecting 
 with the steerage and flooded it. Another 
 came over the bulwark and struck the 
 deck with such force just over my head that 
 for a moment I thought a heavy spar must 
 have fallen from aloft. The wind caught our 
 jib and tore it into shreds. I began to hope 
 that it was an honest contractor who built 
 this ship, for if a plank should start what a 
 fix we would be in, and the way she creaks, 
 groans and trembles under the violent slaps 
 of the waves makes one realize the thinness 
 of the partition between himself and eternity. 
 It is said that when the celebrated engineer, 
 [ 164] 
 
CORUNA TO FAYAL 
 
 Captain Eads, was urging his project for a 
 ship railroad across the Isthmus of Tehuan- 
 tepec, to an inquiry by an old captain as 
 to how the ships would stand the strain of 
 being lifted out of the water, he retorted by 
 wishing to know how they stand the strain 
 in the water — the force of which reply I 
 comprehend to-night, realizing what a 
 wrenching our ship is receiving. 
 
 But the one fact that dispels fear and that 
 has given confidence in all our stormy 
 weather is the thorough seamanship of our 
 officers. They cannot be surpassed in 
 nautical ability. You never hear of foolish 
 accidents to revenue cutters. The corps is 
 a fine one, commissioned by the President, 
 and is by law a part of the navy in time 
 of war. Many of the present officers served 
 with distinction in the navy during the 
 Civil War. The service was established in 
 1790, and possesses some forty vessels, near- 
 ly all steamers, plying along the coast of the 
 United States from Maine to Alaska. They 
 [165] 
 
CORUNA TO FAYAL 
 
 enforce the navigation laws and customs 
 regulations, and assist vessels in distress. 
 There are many acts of heroism and bravery 
 in the chronicles of the service. 
 
 There is other consolation during the 
 
 storm. We are "off soundings" — have 
 plenty of sea room — no lee shore. And this 
 reminds me of a poem written by Mr. Howi- 
 son, the second lieutenant, which I persuaded 
 him to allow me to copy. It well describes 
 [ 166 ] 
 
CORUNA TO FAYAL 
 
 the danger of a lee shore and a ship's tac- 
 tics in getting away from it. 
 
 TACKING SHIP ON A LEE SHORE 
 
 The weather leech of the topsails shivers, 
 The bowlines strain, the lee shrouds slacken, 
 Taut each weather brace, the tall mast quivers, 
 While the seas with the coming storm-cloud 
 blacken. 
 
 Open one point on the weather bow 
 Is the lighthouse tall on Fire Island Head; 
 There's a shade of doubt on the captain's brow 
 And the pilot watches the heaving lead. 
 
 I stand at the wheel and with eager eye 
 On sea, and shore, and heavens gaze, 
 Till the muttered order "Full and bye !" 
 Is sharply changed "Keep full for stays !" 
 
 The ship bends lower before the breeze, 
 As her broadside fair to the blast she lays, 
 And swifter springs to the rising seas 
 As the captain shouts "Stand by for stays !" 
 [167] 
 
CORUNA TO FAYAL 
 
 In silence all, each takes his place, 
 
 With the gathered coil in his hardened hands. 
 
 By tack and bowline, sheet and brace, 
 
 The watchword waiting, impatient stands. 
 
 And now Fire Island's light draws near 
 And in trumpet tones the pilot's shout 
 From his post on the bowsprit heel, I hear, 
 The welcome cry "Ready about!" 
 
 No time to spare, 'tis touch and go, 
 As the captain growls "Down helm, hard down !" 
 And my weight on the whirling spokes I throw, 
 The heavens grow black with an angry frown. 
 
 High o'er the knighthead flies the spray, 
 As she meets the shock of the plunging sea, 
 And my stiffened form to the wheel I lay, 
 "Ay! ay! sir! Helm a-lee!" 
 
 With a swerving leap, like a startled steed, 
 The ship flies up in the eye of the wind, 
 The dangerous shoals on her lee recede, 
 And the headlands white we leave behind. 
 [168] 
 
CORUNA TO FAYAL 
 
 The topsails flutter, the jibs collapse, 
 
 Then strain and creak at the groaning cleats, 
 
 The mainsail slaps, the spanker flaps, 
 
 As thunders the order "Tack and sheets !" 
 
 'Midst the rattle of blocks and the tramp of the 
 
 crew 
 Hisses the rain of the coming squall, 
 The sails are back from clew to clew, 
 And now is the time for "Mainsail haul !" 
 
 And the heavy yards, like a baby's toy, 
 
 By strong arms fifty are swiftly swung, 
 
 She holds her own, and I look with joy 
 
 To the first white spray o'er the bulwarks flung. 
 
 "Let go and haul !" 'Tis the last command, 
 As the mainsail fills to the blast once more, 
 Astern, to leeward, lies the land 
 And the broken white on the rocky shore. 
 
 What matter the rain, or the reef, or squall, 
 As I steady the helm for the open sea, 
 The boatswain bellows "Belay there all !" 
 And the captain's breath once more comes free. 
 [169] 
 
CORUNA TO FAYAL 
 
 So off shore let the good ship fly ! 
 Little care I how the breeze may blow, 
 In my forecastle bunk and jacket dry, 
 Eight bells have struck, — my watch below. 
 
 July 19 to 30. The morning, July 19 
 following our rough first night out from 
 Coruna found a number of cadets again sea- 
 sick, and their cases were severe on account 
 of imprudence in eating while on shore. Ex- 
 cepting one night (July 30) we had quiet 
 weather after this until we reached Fayal. 
 During these twelve or fourteen days, I my- 
 self was not very well, and had to treat a 
 large number of cases of indigestion and 
 fever caused by dampness of quarters and 
 the poor water which we took on at Coruna. 
 Though the days were sunny, the atmos- 
 phere seemed saturated with moisture, 
 making everything below deck uncomfort- 
 able. It is almost impossible to thoroughly 
 ventilate a ship, and in spite of the greatest 
 care our staterooms get musty. On retiring 
 [170] 
 

 [171] 
 
CORUNA TO FAYAL 
 
 at night the sheets are so damp that it is 
 hazardous to use them, and we wrap our- 
 selves in blankets instead. We have several 
 days of dead calm, when the sea becomes 
 glassy and the sails flap, flap against the 
 masts all day long. Every book and news- 
 paper on board is read thin. 
 
 The captain divides his time in carving, 
 watching the barometer and shouting, 
 "Whew! My gracious! Oh, for a wind." 
 And the first lieutenant works off his feel- 
 ings on the wardroom boy and by putting 
 up fresh work for the cadets. The cadets, 
 indeed, do not have a very easy time. They 
 have their watches to stand, their recitations 
 to get, time-sights to take and work up, and 
 when nothing else can be thought of they are 
 commanded to put on their jumpers for 
 exercise in seamanship, which means all sorts 
 of work with needle, canvas and rope. They 
 are not a class, however, to endure without 
 grumbling, and they express their feelings 
 by reciting to one another their catechism, 
 [ 173] 
 
CORUNA TO FAYAL 
 
 whose questions and answers are witty sar- 
 casms upon their duties and instructors. 
 
 One cadet asks the question in a loud 
 voice, and the others answer in unison, so 
 that the officers in the adjoining room can 
 hear it readily. 
 
 
 bf'* q^ 
 
 Q. Who made the earth? A. Captain 
 Henriques. 
 
 Q. What is the most godlike being that 
 walks the earth? A. A captain in the rev- 
 enue marine. 
 
 Q. What is the most contemptible thing 
 that crawls? A. A cadet. 
 
 Q. Who bring head winds? A. Cadets. 
 
 Q. How do you know cadets bring head 
 [174] 
 
[175] 
 
CORUNA TO FAYAL 
 
 winds? A. Because the captain always lays 
 for them when there are head winds. 
 
 Q. What is the rank of cadet? A. Next 
 below that of mess boy. 
 
 Q. What is a third lieutenant? A. That 
 is what the third lieutenant would like to 
 know. 
 
 The captain had occasion to examine the 
 log during the very stormy weather of July 
 18, and much to his surprise perceived that 
 every cadet on watch had recorded "sea 
 smooth." 
 
 This was a mental aggravation heaped 
 upon his physical discomfort which was un- 
 endurable, and he accordingly summoned 
 them all aft and gave them a raking over on 
 the log. Mr. H. B. West was the first of- 
 fender who during the heavy gale had re- 
 ported "sea smooth." "And," says the cap- 
 tain, reading each name in succession, "you 
 all follow one another and copy his note like 
 a parcel of sheep following a bell-wether." 
 
 I have been puzzled to know just why the 
 [177] 
 
CORUNA TO FAYAL 
 
 cadets so uniformly made this entry, but 
 have concluded that on account of the rough 
 weather the captain and first lieutenant had 
 found other objects to whang and growl at 
 and really it did seem smooth sailing. In 
 other words, the smoothest sailing for these 
 young men is in the roughest weather. As 
 they are quite capable of this fine sarcasm, 
 this may have been their motive. 
 
 However, this sharp reprimand, received 
 at the beginning of their professional careers, 
 will be of value to the cadets in warning 
 them against that deadly feature of govern- 
 ment service, the official rut. There are too 
 many "Pub. Funcs" in official life who never 
 get out of a rut and do things in a particular 
 manner, without regard to reason, but just 
 because they have been done that way be- 
 fore. 
 
 The incident gave a nickname to West, 
 who was ever after known as "Horace Bell- 
 wether West," and after the class had been 
 duly drubbed and dubbed as "very defi- 
 [178] 
 
C'ORUNA TO FAYAL 
 
 cient," etc., they were sent to the steerage 
 to supper, where long Broadbent gravely 
 added another section to the catechism by 
 asking "What kind of yachts are cadets?" 
 And in reply to an inquisitive silence, re- 
 
 marked "Idyots!" and quickly dodged the 
 inevitable shower of hardtack. 
 
 The nights now are very agreeable, and I 
 have many pleasant chats with these young 
 gentlemen and am quite entertained by two 
 of them in particular, Messrs. Kimball and 
 Cant well, who have both been employed in 
 [179] 
 
CORUNA TO FAYAL 
 
 the Life-Saving Service and narrate many 
 interesting stories of wrecks of vessels and 
 saving of human life to which they were eye- 
 witnesses. 
 
 During one of these quiet days we have 
 several fine illustrations of inverted mirage 
 — a ship on the horizon appearing suspended 
 high in air, inverted, and resting apparently 
 on its uprght image beneath. Of course, it 
 is known that this is caused by unequal re- 
 fraction in the lower strata of atmosphere, 
 but it is not so easy to understand the ex- 
 planation that the upright ship is the re- 
 flection and the inverted one is the object 
 itself. "A mirage is sometimes dangerous," 
 the captain remarks, and narrates how on 
 one occasion near Fort Fisher, in North 
 Carolina, on account of a low fog and a land 
 mirage, the fort appeared a mile or two off, 
 when the fog suddenly lifting, the mirage 
 at the same time vanished, and he found 
 himself within a few rods of the beach. 
 
 July 30, Saturday. To-day we have a 
 [180] 
 
[181] 
 
CORUNA TO FAYAL 
 
 strong wind, and as I come on deck I find 
 all sails set and the ship plowing through 
 the high waves at a rapid rate. But no en- 
 thusiasm is shown hy the officer on deck, for 
 it seems we are not on our course. A soft, 
 gentle breeze from another quarter and mere 
 wafting along would serve our purpose 
 better. What a striking analogy does this 
 bear to a man who works hard, but in the 
 wrong direction. We sight an English fore- 
 topsail schooner, and a very large French 
 steamship. There is a pleasure in exchang- 
 ing signals with a ship at sea; it is a sort 
 of long-range politeness. We raise our en- 
 sign, which is both a salute and an announce- 
 ment of our nationality, and receiving a like 
 announcement in return, run up the signal 
 flags which spell our name, and others to 
 signify all well on board, with a request to 
 be so reported. 
 
 July 31, Sunday. We sight the Western 
 Islands about 4 o'clock in the afternoon. 
 Fayal is the most western one, and after sup- 
 [183] 
 
CORUNA TO FAYAL 
 
 per it becomes evident we cannot make it 
 for several hours, so the captain shortens 
 sail and stands up against the wind with the 
 double object of making the bark ride easier 
 for the night (it is quite rough), and of 
 going into port by daylight. The next morn- 
 ing (Monday) we find five of the islands 
 in sight, Terceira, Graciosa, San Jorge, 
 Pico and Fayal, and we are quite near to all 
 of them, but there is a head wind, and the 
 whole day is spent in tacking back and forth, 
 trying vainly to run in between Pico and 
 Fayal. I enjoy this sailing very much, 
 though it is wasted so far as progress is con- 
 cerned. 
 
 The sea is smooth, the day warm and 
 agreeable, and the breeze just strong enough 
 to keep us moving at a pleasant speed, while 
 the islands, some near, others far, present a 
 pleasing background to this picture of de- 
 lightfully lazy sea life. What more could 
 one wish — no dust, nor smoke, nor heat; 
 sailing, it is true, back and forth some five 
 [ 184] 
 
CORUNA TO FAYAL 
 
 or six miles to make one, but what difference 
 can it make? It's all in the summer cruise, 
 and we are not pressed for time; we have 
 our three meals a day, with fresh provisions 
 still on hand, and no care excepting our own 
 preservation. 
 
 The morning of Tuesday, August 2, 
 finds us still in sight of the islands, but 
 nearer the western end of Fayal, which the 
 captain intends to double instead of attempt- 
 ing the same passage as yesterday. As we 
 get nearer we have a view scarcely to be ex- 
 celled, and certainly the finest one of the 
 whole cruise. Off to the left is Fayal, even 
 from the sea showing its evident volcanic 
 origin. From the summit of the hills or 
 crater down to the ocean there is rather a 
 steep slope, but covered with the products 
 of cultivation. As the morning sun shines 
 upon this slope, so green and refreshing to 
 the eye, all on board gather upon the lee side 
 and enjoy it. We can distinguish several 
 little villages with their white houses and 
 [185] 
 
CORUNA TO FAYAL 
 
 church steeples, some down close to the sea, 
 others farther up the hill — these last appar- 
 ently scattered along a single road which 
 would appear to encircle the island. The 
 fields seem curiously divided into squares of 
 different sizes by hedges of some tall, thick 
 growth, which give them a checkerboard ap- 
 pearance, and a fence cannot be distin- 
 guished anywhere. Large windmills located 
 on the hills add to the scene, as do also the 
 two or three immense rocks looming out of 
 the ocean but a few feet from the shore. 
 
 With this, a scene of beauty on our left, we 
 turn and find one of grandeur directly be- 
 fore us in the great mountain of Pico, rising 
 7,800 feet from the island of the same name. 
 Pico and Fayal are separated only by a 
 small stretch of ocean of perhaps three or 
 four miles extent. 
 
 Pico seems a lofty cone, around which 
 
 three distinct layers of clouds are gathered. 
 
 Midway between its base and center are 
 
 groups of cumulus; encircling it above a 
 
 [186] 
 
CORUNA TO FAYAL 
 
 layer of white strata, and very near the top 
 another bunch of pure, white clouds, from 
 out the center of which springs the lofty 
 summit — an irregularly truncated cone — 
 clearly set against the blue sky. Presently 
 the clouds change and, coalescing, cover the 
 mountain more than half way from top to 
 bottom with a layer of white mist, corre- 
 sponding in contour to the mountain be- 
 neath, and giving it an appearance as though 
 covered with a white veil. 
 
 What could be more grand and beautiful 
 than the scene this bright morning, as under 
 full canvas, even to spencers and studding 
 sails, we forge along rapidly toward much- 
 desired terra firma — on our left the garden- 
 like Fayal; to the rear San Jorge and Ter- 
 ceira, blue and misty in the distance; to the 
 right or westward the open ocean stretching 
 off toward home ; and straight ahead, Mount 
 Pico rising from the sea, its peak piercing 
 the clouds and the blue vault above. 
 
 We cast anchor at eleven o'clock in ten 
 [187] 
 
CORUNA TO FAYAL 
 
 fathoms of water, and shortly receive calls 
 from the health officer and from our Ameri- 
 can Consul, Mr. Dabney, from whose resi- 
 dence the American flag is displayed in 
 recognition of our presence. 
 
 [188] 
 
FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
For a description of the Azores or West- 
 ern Islands I recommend books of travel, 
 and propose only to mention the more strik- 
 ing features as they were observed in the 
 four days which we spent in Fayal. 
 
 This island is thirty miles in circumfer- 
 ence, and like the rest is settled and owned 
 by Portuguese. The city has a population 
 of 10,000, and resembles in some respects 
 the city of Coruna. The most important 
 man here is Mr. Dabney, the American 
 Consul, whose father and grandfather were 
 his predecessors in office, and who is said to 
 have large interests on the island. We visited 
 his house and were much pleased with its ele- 
 gance and the refined entertainment of our 
 host and his family. The garden seemed some- 
 thing wonderful, the climate being such that 
 everything is produced which grows in the 
 [191] 
 
FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 tropics — and indeed the appearance is trop- 
 ical. In the same garden are growing figs, 
 oranges, grapes, pineapples, bananas, the 
 date palm, the bamboo, and shade trees, 
 vines and flowers in such number and variety 
 that we had only time to glance at them. 
 Miss Dabney told me that they had thirty- 
 four different kinds of camelias alone. One 
 peculiarity is the scarcity of grass, which it 
 is difficult to make grow, and instead, the 
 ground is covered with a thick moss of a 
 bright green color, which gives a fine effect, 
 particularly in the park, where the trees are 
 large and but little shrubbery is allowed to 
 grow. 
 
 To get away from my damp stateroom, I 
 went to the Fayal Hotel the first day, and 
 remained there during our entire stay, and 
 was benefited by this rest on shore. A num- 
 ber of the cadets did the same, but the other 
 officers had regular duties to keep them on 
 board ship. We made the acquaintance of 
 two Americans, Mr. C. A. Sloan, of Bos- 
 [192] 
 
FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 ton, and Mr. F. B. Young, of Fitchburg, 
 
 temporarily in the islands, who assisted us in 
 seeing what little there was of interest. In 
 the shops ma} 7 be found some very pretty 
 laees, made in the convents from the fiber 
 of the pineapple plant. We spent the time 
 in looking around the few streets, playing 
 billiards and loafing in the large garden at- 
 tached to the hotel. 
 
 Many of the houses here are faced with 
 polished tiles of various patterns which, 
 though odd, are quite pretty. All are roofed 
 with red tiling, and the gardens and yards 
 are invariably inclosed by high walls. 
 
 The costumes on the streets are not so 
 striking as in Coruna, excepting the ordi- 
 nary capote worn by the women of the upper 
 classes, the photograph of which will convey 
 a better idea than any description. One 
 would take the wearers to be nuns, but the 
 only distinction conveyed by their use is the 
 ability to pay for them — a good one costing 
 [193] 
 
FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 sixty dollars. No Portuguese lady will be 
 seen on the street without one. 
 
 The main features of our stay in Fayal 
 were two rides into the interior. We got up 
 a party of twelve, and hired three hacks 
 drawn by mules and were driven out to a 
 small settlement some five miles in the coun- 
 try. The road was excellent and the scenery 
 from a distance fine, but the country, gar- 
 dens, etc., immediately around us, it was 
 difficult to see on account of the high walls 
 with which the places are all surrounded. 
 The streams which we passed were filled 
 with women washing clothes upon the 
 stones, as is done in Spain. 
 
 The terminus of our ride was the place of 
 a man who had acquired a moderate fortune 
 in the States and had returned to enjoy it in 
 comparative magnificence. We found his 
 rooms covered with American prints and il- 
 lustrated papers, and it was a pleasure to 
 give orders and have them understood with- 
 out the need of a guide. 
 
 [ 194] 
 
The Capote (headwear) and Capella (cloak) as worn in the Azoi 
 
FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 There is a very marked feeling of friend- 
 ship toward America throughout all these 
 islands, and many Portuguese would like 
 to see them annexed, but the idea is not seri- 
 ously entertained. 
 
 The popular respect in which Americans 
 are held is doubtless due in great part to the 
 battle of Fayal, fought in this harbor Sep- 
 tember 26 and 27, 1814, between the Ameri- 
 can privateer General Armstrong and three 
 British men-of-war. The fight was so close 
 to shore that vantage points were crowded 
 with people, including the governor and 
 other notables of the island, who witnessed 
 the whole affair. The story, as I learned it, 
 is about as follows: 
 
 The American privateer brig, General 
 Armstrong, Captain Samuel Chester Reid 
 in command, dropped anchor in Fayal 
 Roads on the afternoon of September 26 for 
 water and provisions. The American Con- 
 sul, John B. Dabney, went on board, and 
 was just telling Captain Reid that no Brit- 
 [195] 
 
FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 ish ships had been seen around there for sev- 
 eral weeks, when a British war brig hove in 
 sight. It proved to be the Carnation, 
 eighteen guns, while the General Armstrong 
 carried but seven. 
 
 Captain Reid made ready to dash by the 
 enemy and get out to sea, when he found 
 there was no wind where he lay, while the 
 British vessel farther out had the advantage 
 of a good breeze. Fayal was a neutral port 
 (Portuguese), and Captain Reid had a 
 right to believe, reasonably or otherwise, 
 that the neutrality would not be violated by 
 the British. The American Consul gave as- 
 surance he could not be molested while at 
 anchor, and therefore Captain Reid deter- 
 mined to remain where he was and await 
 events. 
 
 Soon the Carnation took on a pilot, and 
 from him got all the information needed 
 as to Reid and his vessel. Then she prompt- 
 ly came in close and anchored within pistol 
 shot of the Armstrong. 
 [196] 
 
FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 Captain Reid must have set up a tre- 
 mendous thinking when at this very time he 
 saw two more British ships coming in 
 around the headland, viz., ship-of-the-line 
 Plantagcnct, seventy-four guns, and the 
 frigate Rota, thirty-eight guns. The three 
 ships carried about 2,000 men, while the 
 General .inn strong carried only ninety. At 
 once the Carnation began exchanging sig- 
 nals with her sister ships in the offing, and 
 Captain Reid probably interpreted them as 
 follows: "It's the General Armstrong. 
 We've got him in a trap. We'll send our 
 boats to you, and to-night we'll assemble all 
 the boats of the fleet, pounce upon Reid, add 
 another vessel to our fleet, and send him 
 down to Davy Jones' locker. " This seemed 
 the plan, for the Carnation soon got out her 
 boats and sent them over to the Plantagenet. 
 
 Captain Reid was not the man to sit still 
 
 while something was doing on the part of 
 
 the enemy. He surmised what was coming, 
 
 so he cleared his deck for action, and quietly 
 
 [197] 
 
FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 got under way, hoping to get out somehow. 
 It was night by this time, eight o'clock, but 
 bright moonlight. The Carnation, observ- 
 ing the Armstrong's movement, quickly cut 
 cable and followed, but the breeze was too 
 light, so she lowered four boats and sent 
 them in pursuit. The English, afterward, 
 to justify their violation of neutrality, 
 claimed these boats were sent only to recon- 
 noiter, but they were armed, and each car- 
 ried forty men. On seeing the four pursu- 
 ing boats, Captain Reid dropped anchor and 
 warned them off as they approached. But 
 they kept right on, and the Armstrong fired 
 with telling effect, killing and wounding 
 twenty men. The boats returned the fire, 
 but soon pulled off to a safe distance. The 
 Armstrong had one man killed and her first 
 officer wounded. 
 
 This was but preliminary to the severe 
 
 fight which was to follow. Reid saw the 
 
 British making arrangements for another 
 
 and more formidable attack, and with strate- 
 
 [198] 
 
FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 gy that did him credit brought the Ann- 
 strong in very close to the beach, anchored 
 her, head and stern, and waited. 
 
 By this time the news of the attack had 
 spread through the town, and the shore was 
 black with people looking on. 
 
 Now, imagine the scene. Midnight, but 
 with a full moon giving light almost as 
 bright as day. The hills and castle over- 
 hanging the beach crowded with excited 
 spectators. They look down upon four ships 
 of war — three of them standing off men- 
 acingly and able at any time to pour shot 
 from their 130 guns into the fourth and 
 smallest one of all anchored close to shore. 
 The big British ships are in contemptuous 
 silence, because they think their boarding- 
 parties will capture the American. They 
 desire to capture rather than destroy, and 
 expect to have her as an adjunct to their 
 fleet. Their officers, one a commodore, and 
 their men, seasoned by service in the British 
 Navy — all proud, confident, and brave, too, 
 [199] 
 
FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 for that matter — are looking toward the 
 Armstrong as a sure prize; while Captain 
 Reid and his gallant Amercan crew, by no 
 means paralyzed by the situation or the odds, 
 nerved up to the eager point, are gathering 
 up their loins and otherwise preparing to 
 smite the enemv and give him more than he 
 wants. 
 
 Such is the line-up of the opposing forces 
 just before the bloody conflict. 
 
 Presently twelve big launches, each with 
 forty armed men, put out from the British 
 ships and make for the Armstrong. The 
 fight is on. They come in a single straight 
 line, one close behind the other. Rapidly 
 they approach until within point-blank 
 range, when, with a roar, the guns of the 
 Armstrong belch forth fire and shot, the 
 guns well aimed, the favorite "Long Tom" 
 in particular inflicting heavy damage. The 
 advance is checked. They are staggered — 
 thrown into confusion, and hastily pull back. 
 But they are British, and with three cheers 
 [200] 
 
[201] 
 
FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 they come on again, firing their muskets and 
 boats' carronades, and crying "No quarter!" 
 They make a dash, and in spite of the leaden 
 hail from the Armstrong, get in under her 
 sides beneath the starboard quarter, bow and 
 stern. 
 
 The big guns are now useless. It's "Re- 
 pel boarders!" with pistols and muskets, and 
 hand-to-hand fighting with clubbed weapons, 
 pikes, cutlasses and knives. Only ninety 
 men against four hundred and eighty, but 
 these ninety prove to be men of might, with 
 hearts of oak, nerves of steel, strong arms, 
 quick eyes, and ready brains, for they beat 
 back the British at all points as they vainly 
 try to climb up and over. Captain Reid, 
 with part of his men, is fighting at the stern, 
 and effectively repulses the enemy at this 
 point, but on the forward deck, around the 
 forecastle, his second officer has been killed, 
 and the third officer wounded, the shouts of 
 the men grow less strenuous, shots less fre- 
 quent, and there is danger of the enemy get- 
 [203] 
 
FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 ting foothold here. With a cheer, Reid and 
 his men go forward with a rush, and a 
 mighty rush it is. They beat off the enemy 
 right and left, and fire down upon them as 
 they get back into their boats. They fol- 
 low them into the boats with sword in hand 
 and give "no quarter," the same as had been 
 promised them by their now defeated foe. 
 
 The enemy pull off as rapidly as their 
 crippled condition permits. The fight has 
 lasted forty minutes. And what now of the 
 twelve big launches and four hundred and 
 eighty men? "Three boats were sunk, some 
 were left without a single man to row them, 
 others with three or four. The most that any 
 returned with was about ten. Several boats 
 floated ashore full of dead bodies." The 
 British admitted a loss of sixty- three killed 
 and one hundred and ten wounded, while 
 other accounts give a total of between two 
 and three hundred killed and wounded. Nine 
 officers and a great number of midshipmen 
 were engaged, and only three officers es- 
 [204] 
 
FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 eaped, two of them wounded. The Ameri- 
 cans (wonderful to relate) lost only two 
 killed and seven wounded. 
 
 Captain Reid immediately prepared to 
 defend against another attack. The "Long 
 Tom," his most effective gun, had been dis- 
 mounted, and several others disabled. The 
 "Long Tom" was remounted, and everything 
 put in readiness. But the enemy delayed 
 until morning. Now appeared Reid's fore- 
 sight in anchoring where he had, close to the 
 beach. He sent ashore his killed and wound- 
 ed, and prepared to get his whole crew there 
 if it should be necessary — and he saw that it 
 would be necessary. Mr. Dabney, the 
 American Consul, told him two hours after 
 the fight that the British commodore had 
 refused the request of the Portuguese gov- 
 ernor to observe neutrality, and was going to 
 capture the American privateer, cost what 
 it might. Reid knew that in the end he would 
 have to lose his vessel, but was determined 
 the British shouldn't get it. 
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FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 Daylight saw the Carnation bearing down 
 upon the General Armstrong, but this time 
 no boats were sent out. She came in close 
 and opened a rapid fire, but met with such a 
 warm reception that she retired to make re- 
 pairs. In a short time she came on again, 
 deliberately dropped anchor and began 
 a fire with her heavy armament. Under 
 these conditions, both ships at anchor and 
 close to one another, the advantage to the 
 much larger brig was obvious, and Captain 
 Reid scuttled his ship and got ashore with 
 his men. The British then burned her to 
 prevent her being raised again, which they 
 had not time to do. They had thought to 
 get both Reid and his vessel, but they got 
 neither. 
 
 Hearing the British commodore (Lloyd) 
 would make hostile attempts on shore, Cap- 
 tain Reid took his men into the interior of 
 the island, where, in an old Gothic convent, 
 he prepared to resist. But the commodore 
 did not pursue him. Indeed, the commodore 
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FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 was kept busy for ten days, burying his 
 dead, caring for the wounded, and making 
 repairs. 
 
 This delay of the British squadron for ten 
 days, brought about by the valor of Captain 
 Reid, had an important relation to subse- 
 quent history. Commodore Lloyd's squad- 
 ron was on its way to Jamaica to join the 
 fleet under Admiral Cochrane in the expe- 
 dition against New Orleans. The expedi- 
 tion under Cochrane arrived at Chandeleur 
 Islands, near New Orleans, four days after 
 General Jackson had arrived for the de- 
 fense of the city. Had not the fleet been de- 
 layed by the Fayal incident the expedition 
 would have reached New Orleans before 
 General Jackson and taken the city without 
 a fight. 
 
 Is it a wonder that the battle of Fayal 
 should have made so lasting an impression 
 in these islands? 
 
 Our second ride was on Thursday morn- 
 ing, when, after much scolding and punch- 
 [207 1 
 
FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 ing up of our Portuguese stable-keeper, we 
 managed to collect together eight donkeys 
 and started at nine o'clock for the Caldeira, 
 nine miles distant, a peak rising upward of 
 three thousand feet, the highest point in this 
 island. 
 
 We made quite a commotion as we rat- 
 tled over the flags in the narrow street, each 
 rider punching his donkey and imitating as 
 closefy as he could the outlandish shout of 
 the Portuguese guide to make the brute go 
 faster. It was just the morning for such a 
 ride, and every one, including the guide and 
 his boys — yes, even the much-enduring lazy 
 donkeys — seemed in perfect mood for the oc- 
 casion. The road was at first paved smooth 
 and lined close on each side with the usual 
 high walls, but after proceeding a couple of 
 miles we diverged to the left and took a 
 winding dirt road with a gradual ascent, 
 from which the surrounding country and 
 ocean near and far was spread out before us, 
 every feature of the picturesque scenery be- 
 [208] 
 
X 
 >» 
 
FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 ing sharply outlined in the clear atmosphere 
 and presenting constant changes as we as- 
 cended higher — Pico, as usual, covered with 
 cloud — the sea of an ultramarine blue, 
 flecked with white waves and lining the 
 island of Pico with a broad belt of churning 
 foam — a bark with snow-white sails tacking 
 
 in against the wind — a chain of islands blue 
 and purplish in the distance — and on the 
 other side two thousand miles of unbroken 
 ocean between us and home. Just below us 
 is the little town of Fayal with its open 
 roadstead, where ride at anchor the S. P. 
 Chase, a British brig and the consul's yacht 
 — the sole present tonnage of the port. We 
 can now look down upon those fields which 
 [209] 
 
FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 were before shut out from view and which 
 present the same variegated and tessellated 
 appearance which we noticed while rounding 
 in last Tuesday. But we have a nearer view 
 now and can see the peasants at work in 
 their primitive styles. No plows are used 
 
 here, but the old primitive stick, which but 
 scratches the soil, answers their purpose, and 
 the large sail windmills grind the grain. In 
 many of the fields appear circles resembling 
 perhaps circus rings, in which, however, seri- 
 ous work is going on. In these circles the 
 sheaves of oats, wheat and barley have been 
 thrown, and men, women, boys and cattle 
 [210] 
 
FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 may be seen treading out the grain. In 
 some this has been accomplished, and the 
 workers are busy tossing with forks the 
 trampled stuff into the 
 air that the wind may 
 blow away the chaff. 
 
 As we advance up- 
 ward the road dwindles % , 
 to a mere bridle-path, 
 which follows the gul- 
 ches in the mountain 
 side, and in many places 
 is so steep and stony 
 that, out of considera- 
 tion for our little beasts, 
 we dismount and walk. 
 
 Way up the mountain side in all directions 
 are straight blue lines made by the hedges 
 of hydrangeas in full bloom, and here and 
 there we can see moving white figures, which 
 prove to be peasants gathering roots and 
 fire-wood. 
 
 The point to which we are going is cov- 
 [211] 
 
FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 ered with a cloud, and the mist occasionally 
 envelopes us and we find it growing colder. 
 Finally we reach the top, the clouds about 
 us, but fortunately breaking and giving us 
 the view we wish. 
 
 I have not yet mentioned that the Caldeira 
 
 is the crater of an extinct volcano, down into 
 which we are looking as we suddenly come 
 upon its crest. Its walls are very steep, 
 completely circular, and covered with thick 
 grass and undergrowth of a hue alternately 
 bright and dark, as the sunshine and the 
 shadows alternately fall upon it. 
 
 Two hours are required to walk around 
 [212] 
 
FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 the top of this crater. The depth is 1,700 
 feet, and the circumference at the bottom 
 measures five miles. At the bottom there is 
 a lake, and near the center an infant cone, 
 bearing in miniature a strong resemblance 
 to the Caldeira itself. Moving objects are 
 seen which, with glasses, we make out to be 
 peasants pasturing their cattle and sheep. 
 
 The silence of this deep, wide basin is im- 
 pressive. Though perfectly symmetrical, 
 the sides are not altogether smooth, but at 
 the base are ribbed with ridges of earth and 
 stone, distributed with some regularity 
 around the whole circumference. How are 
 these "infant cones" accounted for, one of 
 which is seen at the bottom of the Caldeira 
 and several more, as we are informed, being 
 on the outside? The answer is that they are 
 the result of minor eruptions after the large 
 volcano had subsided. 
 
 Did any one ever live here? Yes, an Eng- 
 lishman, disgusted with civilized life, built 
 himself a hut and made this wild place his 
 [213] 
 
FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 home, until, one night while making the de- 
 scent, he was killed by the accidental dis- 
 charge of his gun. 
 
 When tired of gazing at this wonderful 
 scene, our minds reverted to the lunch which 
 had been sent by a different route to meet 
 us, but it was invisible, and knowing better 
 than to wait on anything so slow as a Portu- 
 guese, we began the descent. In five min- 
 utes, however, we met our messenger with 
 his huge basket on his head, which he had 
 brought (the basket as well as his head) all 
 the distance for sixty cents. 
 
 We camped by a clear spring and enjoyed 
 a hearty lunch, which we shared with both 
 guides and donkeys, for these last are more 
 fond of bread than of grass. It was hard 
 picking our way down again, but in some 
 places we found long, smooth stretches, down 
 which we ran at full speed, the guide well 
 knowing how to make his donkeys go when 
 he wished them to, shouting "It's a cold day, 
 ah," and poking them unmercifully in the 
 [214] 
 
FATAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 sides with a sharpened stick. Down one 
 stretch we were running as hard as the little 
 things could go, Mr. Kennedy and myself 
 having a private race, when suddenly off 
 flew Mr. Kennedy to one side, while his ani- 
 mal stumbled and rolled all in a heap under 
 the fore feet of my little charger, who, in true 
 
 Barnum-like style, went over him with a fly- 
 ing leap. No harm was done, and we reached 
 town sufficiently early to enable me to make 
 my second call at the consul's. 
 
 During our stay in Fayal, a whaler put 
 in for supplies, whose unfortunate luck il- 
 lustrates the uncertainty of that business. 
 Two years ago they started from New Bed- 
 ford, and at the end of the first year had ob- 
 tained no oil, and put into this same port for 
 [ 215 ] 
 
FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 supplies. Now, they return again, and in 
 the meantime have captured only thirty bar- 
 rels of oil, and so chagrined is the captain 
 that he sends his mate ashore and will not 
 come himself. As all hands work on shares, 
 all are sufferers, and the men are even in 
 debt to the owners for their provisions. 
 Think of two years of absence from home, 
 from shore, of the inconveniences and dan- 
 gers of the sea, and for compensation an in- 
 debtedness to the owners! I was pleased to 
 learn, however, that under these circum- 
 stances the men do not generally wait to see 
 the owners on reaching the home port. 
 
 We have pretty thoroughly done Fayal 
 in our four days' stay, and are quite willing 
 to leave, particularly the captain, who does 
 not relish the anchorage afforded by the har- 
 bor, which is little better than an open road- 
 stead. Indeed, one night during a heavy 
 blow our anchor dragged, endangering the 
 vessel and causing quite an alarm until the 
 other one was cast over. The Azorean, a 
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FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 valuable bark belonging to the consul, was 
 wrecked in this manner a few months ago. 
 We made sail Saturday morning, August 6. 
 
 An old almanac has a cut of the man who 
 tries to keep a journal. He has just fallen 
 asleep upon the open leaves with his pen 
 in hand, and his several entries may be read 
 as follows: Monday — Got up and dressed 
 — went downtown. Bed at eleven. Tues- 
 day — Got up same as Monday ; had my hair 
 cut. Wednesday — Same as Tuesday; only 
 didn't have my hair cut. 
 
 A daily record of our homeward voyage 
 would prove as soporific as the almanac 
 journal, and after laboring with all that's 
 gone before, I don't believe you would stand 
 it. I must bunch the time and incidents, 
 therefore, and tell you that after leaving 
 Fayal, for eleven days we had dry, bright 
 weather, with just enough of a fair wind to 
 drive us about seventy-five miles a day. 
 Nothing could be pleasanter than this con- 
 tinual smooth sailing. At the table we are 
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FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 able to do without the racks; the awning is 
 spread over the deck, and Ave spend the 
 whole day in the shade, reading or gazing 
 indolently upon the blue sea. 
 
 The first week we fall in with the Channel 
 Fleet, as it is called — vessels seeking the 
 English Channel — which has been forced 
 150 miles westward of its usual course. One 
 day we sighted seven sail, and one of them, 
 the bark Peerless, signaled us for flour and 
 sugar. We hove to and the captain came 
 aboard ; said he had a cargo of rice and seed 
 and was 134 days out from Madras, bound 
 for Liverpool. 
 
 We saw several schools of whales and por- 
 poises and caught half a dozen dolphins, 
 which are the prettiest fish I ever saw. They 
 are beautifully shaped, have a bright, blue 
 back, silvery sides and yellowish fins, and 
 present a curious change of colors while 
 dying. 
 
 My professional duties during this cruise 
 have been light, and it is my desire to report 
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FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 all well at the expiration of our voyage. The 
 only case that has given me trouble is that 
 of our boatswain. Lieutenant Ross has 
 given me a good sketch of this patient, who 
 is now lying at full length in a hammock 
 on the forward deck, contentedly smoking a 
 pipe, and the picture is facetiously labeled: 
 "The sickest man on board." 
 
 He isn't sick at all, but he's lying there 
 under the doctor's orders, and he'll be pun- 
 
 ished if he disobeys them. This highly sat- 
 isfactory status (from my standpoint) came 
 about as follows: Soon after our depar- 
 ture from New Bedford he complained of 
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FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 pains in the back, which have continued off 
 and on throughout the voyage — now better 
 after a rest, now worse after freely exercis- 
 ing again against advice — and particularly 
 worse after shore leave at Coruna and Fay- 
 al. His trouble was caused by strain in lift- 
 ing a heavy coil of rope; and I have diag- 
 nosed the case as that of slipping and tem- 
 porary displacement of the muscles. Since 
 leaving the Azores I have feared it might de- 
 velop into something serious and directed 
 him to keep oh his back in his berth or ham- 
 mock. He promised, but has failed to keep 
 his promise, and being determined to have 
 him well when we get back to New Bedford, 
 I complained to the captain while we were 
 talking in the cabin a few days ago. The 
 captain, saying he would attend to it, im- 
 mediately went on deck, and through the 
 transoms I heard him address the deck offi- 
 cer as follows: "Tell that boatswain if he 
 disobeys the doctor's orders again I'll send 
 him below and put him in irons." Fine! 
 [220] 
 
FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 What wouldn't the general practitioner give 
 to have his orders thus enforced ! The boat- 
 swain has been obedient since, and will 
 doubtless make a good recovery. 
 
 Our smooth sailing lasted until the night 
 of the 17th, when we found ourselves in a 
 storm, by which we were driven on our course 
 at the rate of eleven knots an hour for two 
 days and three nights. The sea was very 
 high and rough, and if our course had not 
 been with the wind we should have had to 
 heave to. The Chase pitched and tossed at 
 a great rate, and for three nights we got 
 scarcely any sleep. The scudding before the 
 wind in the daytime, however, is grand. The 
 sky is overcast with clouds, the sun occasion- 
 ally breaking through and lighting up a 
 broad band of ocean, as though it were an 
 unpolished mass of silver, the few sails which 
 are set drawing hard, the wind howling 
 through the rigging, the waves dashing all 
 over the deck on both sides and at both ends, 
 the "spoondrift" hurled from the crests of 
 [ 221 ] 
 
FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 the waves like miniature showers of rain, the 
 schools of flying fish starting up and skim- 
 ming awa}^ like quails in a stubble, and the 
 frequent heavy squalls coming up from 
 windward as if to reinforce the storm and 
 requiring a call for both watches and all the 
 idlers on deck to stand by to shorten sail. 
 We shipped large seas over both rails con- 
 stantly, and the deck was covered with water 
 and was slippery as glass. 
 
 Nearly every one met with some ludicrous 
 misfortune, either in falling or receiving a 
 sudden drenching. I was myself tossed in a 
 way I shall not soon forget. I was standing 
 in front of the steerage-hatch, when sud- 
 denly the vessel lifted, twisted and dipped 
 to leeward so violently that I was hurled 
 down the steep, slippery deck as though shot 
 from a gun, and brought up against the bul- 
 warks and an extra mast with the force of 
 a projectile. The crew rushed up, thinking 
 to find mv head battered in, but I had man- 
 aged to strike with my feet first, and got off 
 [ 222 ] 
 
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FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 with bruised shins only. It was a narrow es- 
 cape, and I now realize that slippery decks 
 are not the least of the dangers in going to 
 sea. 
 
 The accident reminded the first lieutenant 
 of another wonderful story. Said he, "When 
 my uncle was running the ocean they 
 
 shipped at some port in India a lot of pigs, 
 which, after getting out to sea, all huddled 
 up to windward, when suddenly a big wave 
 came along and sent one little fellow a-scoot- 
 in' across the deck. Down he went back- 
 ward like a streak of lightning, by George! 
 with his bristles up in the air and his tail 
 sticking out straight and stiff; and, darn 
 [225] 
 
FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 my buttons, if his tail didn't go right 
 through the side of the vessel ! It's a fact — 
 you know you can shoot a candle through a 
 pine board — and they sawed the plank out, 
 and it's in the Nantucket custom house 
 now." Then in a dignified tone, and in reply 
 to a jocose remark, "My uncle saw it and 
 relates the story." 
 
 We were nearly worn out by this pro- 
 longed storm, but on the 20th found our- 
 selves within 500 miles of Block Island, and 
 were rather grateful than otherwise. But 
 we had stormy weather after this, although 
 in more broken doses. I copy from the cap- 
 tain's official report : 
 
 "In the Gulf Stream we had very rough 
 weather and terrific squalls of wind, rain and 
 lightning. The cruise throughout has had 
 more of shortening and making sail owing to 
 heavy weather than any cruise we have been 
 engaged in, excepting the first cruise of this 
 vessel, in the fall of 1878. . . . Our 
 main topsail yard is also sprung. This will 
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FAYAL AND HOMEWARD 
 
 need replacing before another cruise. I 
 presume the fearful squalls through which 
 we have passed on our 
 return cruise devel- 
 oped the weakness of 
 the spars named. ' ' 
 
 We come to anchor 
 in Gardner's Bay, 
 Long Island Sound, 
 Friday night, August 26, having been 
 twenty days in making the passage from 
 Fayal. Lieutenant Ross had estimated 
 thirty days; the captain had said twenty- 
 six, while I had bet a dinner on twenty- 
 four. On two previous cruises the return 
 from Fayal had taken thirty-three days. 
 
 We have been gone seventy-five days, or 
 two months and a half, and excepting ten 
 days all the time has been spent at sea. We 
 remain here until September 4, in order to 
 give the cadets opportunity to command and 
 sail the bark in this land-locked harbor. We 
 then return to New Bedford. The cruise is 
 over. j- 227 -j 
 
DEC IS 
 
One copy del. to Cat. Div. 
 
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Ill SSBll I C0NGR ESS 
 
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